


Over to Gravity Falls

by skimmingthesurface, SylviaW1991



Series: Mystery Best Friends [2]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged!Twins, M/M, Mystery Adventure, Post-Series, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sequel, awkward teen romance, pinescone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 132,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3649470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skimmingthesurface/pseuds/skimmingthesurface, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991/pseuds/SylviaW1991
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It had been difficult, at first, to find information on Mabel and Dipper Pines. It had been especially difficult for Wirt to wrap his mind around what information he did find. The Gravity Falls webpage was an ugly, brown mess with an outdated interface and weak search capabilities. That was why it had been so easy to disbelieve the dates on the articles he’d eventually come across. The main one he’d found, at least with the Dipper Pines he’d recognized, contained a photograph of him fighting a giant bat with a police taser."</p><p>When Wirt and Greg successfully plan a summer trip with a stop in Gravity Falls, Oregon seven months after their stint in The Unknown, they're not exactly sure what they'll find waiting for them. Or who, to be more precise. But whether waiting months or years, the Mystery Best Friends inevitably find themselves back together and ready to tackle new mysteries and some delicious ob-waffle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! As promised, here is chapter one of the sequel to our crossover fic "Falling Over the Wall" (wow, that's a mouthful). If you couldn't already tell, we enjoy combining the titles of the shows. Anyway, this fic will pick up post-series for both Gravity Falls and Over the Garden Wall, and we'll get to see what's happened so far.
> 
> Also, this fic does contain the Pinescone ship (which is Dipper/Wirt), so for those of you who've been on the look out for some, hooray! You've come to the right place! For those of you who find it's not your cup of tea, then you might want to skip this sequel. Personally, we feel that we really made it work and we're extremely proud of this fic. We enjoyed writing it, so we hope you enjoy reading it!

_“Wirt?”_  
_“What? What is it, Greg?”_  
_“Is summer a really long time from now?”_  
_“No. It’s not that long. It’ll be summer before you know it.”_

\----

As fall faded into winter and winter gave into spring, Wirt was proven just how wrong he was. When the torn, aged page of a journal he’d seen in a place that was almost like a dream - almost, and by dream he also meant nightmare in some ways - had been found in his pocket not a day after they’d been released from their hospital stay, he and Greg gathered around his calendar and counted the days. Two hundred and twenty-nine.  


Wirt had sat back, slack-jawed and uncertain if that was actually the correct number, while Greg simply glanced between the number glaring at them on the calculator and the older boy. “I can’t even count that high,” he admitted quietly.  


“Sure you can,” Wirt found himself saying, ignoring the tremor in his voice in favor of finding a bold, red marker as he drew a big X over the Sunday November second square. “It’s not that hard. We’ll start with today, and before you know it, this calendar will be full of red Xs. We’ll be X rich.”  


Greg laughed when Wirt used the marker to draw a red dot on the tip of his nose, then he grabbed it from him and proceeded to draw a “masterpiece” on his cheek. “It’s okay if it takes a while,” he ended up saying as they washed the ink off later. “We’re going to see them again and be the Mystery Best Friends and while they’re having adventures to tell us about, we can have adventures to tell them about, right Wirt?”  


“Right, Greg,” he’d agreed, though that night he’d had to take the calendar down from his wall so the blank squares would stop watching him.  


Fall had been a challenging season, though not necessarily because of the two hundred plus days hanging over their heads. A fifteen-year-old boy miraculously drags himself and his unconscious little brother from the ice cold lake after tumbling down a hill and staying under for a good eight minutes, but both he and aforementioned little brother felt as if they’d been walking around a forest right out of a fairy tale for eight days - give or take a few, they sort of blurred together. In either case, it was a near death experience that haunted him, in sleeping and waking hours. Classmates inquired to know the details of what nearly drowning was like, teachers offered a concerned word, and their parents- their parents. Well, for the most part they left them alone about the details, just relieved to have them safe and sound, recovering.  


But simply recovering hadn’t been good enough for Wirt. He’d needed to know just what he and Greg experienced, he needed to understand it. He needed to make sure that the bird they’d befriended, the people and creatures they’d seen, and the twins they’d met along the way were real. The page from the journal assured him of that much, but he still felt the need to check, double check, research what it all meant.  


The afterlife was the conclusion he came to that made the most sense. Some sort of threshold between life and death. Some were able to find their way out, others didn’t, maybe couldn’t. When he found Beatrice’s gravestone in the cemetery - old and faded and beside so many others that shared her surname - he regretted ever embarking on this quest to know what and why and how. Ignorance is bliss, after all. They were all there. Langtree. Endicott. But an airy sense of relief filled him when the names Dipper and Mabel Pines were never found.  


They found their way out.  


Winter had not been easy either. With the snow covering every inch of the lightly wooded town where they lived from December onward, both he and Greg felt the effects of their last day in The Unknown. Nightmares plagued them both, though Wirt moreso than Greg, but the younger of the two found his way into the older’s room more often than not. At least at first.  


As they got used to the chills and the reassurances that there was no magic that could turn them into trees here, they found it easier to sleep through the night. Once the courage to sleep settled in his mind, Wirt worked up the courage to finally look up the twins. He needed to know, for certain, that they’d made it out. That they were okay. That he could fulfill his promise and give the page from the journal back to its rightful owner.  


Plus, he had a trip to Oregon to plan and little idea of how to do so.  


Luckily, their mom and Greg’s dad were open to the idea of a long, family road trip on the west coast. An adventure, Jonathan had declared, much to Greg’s delight.  


By the time spring had thawed winter, the tickets for their flight to California were purchased, the trip’s itinerary decided upon, and the stop in Gravity Falls, Oregon firmly set into their plan. It had been easier than Wirt expected to convince his mom and step-dad to set aside a few days for the small town. Jonathan’s enthusiasm for the paranormal and mysterious fueled his interest, and the fact that it was a small town steeped in pioneer-times history got their mom on board.  


While that was one worry off of Wirt’s plate, spring had also invited a new one altogether. One that involved the twelve-year-old twins he and Greg had met in the woods.  


It had been difficult, at first, to find information on Mabel and Dipper Pines. It had been especially difficult to wrap his mind around what information he did find. The Gravity Falls webpage was an ugly, brown mess with an outdated interface and weak search capabilities. That was why it had been so easy to disbelieve the dates on the articles he’d eventually come across. The main one he’d found, at least with the Dipper Pines he’d recognized, contained a photograph of him fighting a giant bat with a police taser.  


But what didn’t make sense was that the article and photograph were credited for 2012. They’d just hit the summer of 2015, or would hit it when the bell finally rang. Flutters of nerves filled his stomach when he thought of the implications of that, and the other articles - the recent ones - he’d come across. Though Halloween and the adventures into The Unknown had happened just a few months prior for him, he had the very distinct impression that it had been much longer for the Mystery Twins.  


The how of that ate at him, and he’d buried himself in more research throughout the spring months to try and find out just what had happened to them. But he came up empty-handed, aside from a mild headache. The time difference was just _there_.  


Wirt sighed, looking to the clock at the head of the classroom as his classmates began the classic end-of-day shuffle. Papers and pencils went into backpacks, the volume rose. It was either made worse or better, depending on perspective, because it was the last class of the last day before summer.  


Oh, summer, with its oppressive heat, the air heavy and dense with-  


The bell rang and he swallowed, tucking his things away in his bag and shuffling out into the busy hallway. Lockers slammed, his fellow high schoolers shouting without fear of reprimand. No one got detention on the last day.  


He went to his own locker to empty it of his last notebooks and the picture of himself and his brother held up by a frog-shaped magnet. He wondered sometimes if the pictures Mabel had taken with her crazy pink camera had made it home with them like the little scrap of paper he had in his poetry journal, and the book of stickers Greg had excitedly shown him. Mabel’s name had been written right there on the first page.  


He’d made a promise to get that journal page back to them that summer, and he was going to keep it. Hopefully he wouldn’t die on the airplane or in the rental car his parents were using on this crazy excursion. Hopefully Dipper and Mabel recognized him without his stupid Halloween costume and after, well, two and a half years on their part.  


It was crazy. Completely crazy. Maybe they should cancel the whole entire trip and-  


“Hey, Wirt.”  


“Oh. Hey. Hi. Jason Funderberker.” He removed the picture, closing it into a folder as he filled his satchel with notebooks.  


Jason Funderberker, the total package, shifted the straps of his backpack. “End of the year, right?”  


“Uh-huh. So, um, what- Did you need something?”  


“Yeah. Sara’s waiting for her bus out front. I’m supposed to tell you that you’re supposed to go talk to her.”  


“Wha-? Okay. Thanks.”  


“Sure thing, Wirt. See you over the summer.”  


“Uh. Maybe.” Probably not. Except probably. It all kind of depended on how the twins reacted to him and Greg showing up. If they went. There was still time to cancel, right? The flight that would take them to southern California left that afternoon, but that was no reason for them not to be able to just cancel.  


A drive up the state and into Oregon was crazy. Completely nuts.  


So caught up in his thoughts, he almost didn’t hear the girl call out for him. “Wirt, over here! Did Jason give you my message?”  


He paused, disconnecting from his fears to focus on her. “Yeah. Did you, um, what did you need? I’ve got to pick up Greg. You know.”  


“Yeah, but I wanted to ask if you ever picked up your yearbook?”  


He blushed at her expectant look. As a member of the yearbook committee, she knew he’d picked it up. He’d been called into the office twice to get it. His mom had insisted that he get one, assured him that he would regret it otherwise, but it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Unlike everyone else, his wasn’t riddled with names and signatures and special little notes. He’d waited too long to finally heed the call of office aids and pick it up, then hadn’t been able to bring himself to remove it from his locker while others around him were passing them back and forth.  


At Sara’s questioning look, though, he pulled the book out and handed it over. She didn’t bother to sigh over the lack of other signatures, used to her friend’s shyer nature, and scrawled something quickly. “You’ll text me when you’re in California, right?”  


He hadn’t told anyone about the Oregon part of their destination, so nodded. A glance at her words had his ears burning in embarrassment. “O-okay. I- Thanks.”  


“Sure thing, Wirt. I think that’s my bus, though. I’ve got to go. Have a good summer, okay?”  


“Yeah. Y-you too.” He glanced down at his yearbook, gaze landing right on the only words on these blank front pages.  


_Be true to you and honest, Wirt! Once you do that you’ll be able to do some seriously amazing things. HAGS! <3 Sara_  


It was mortifying to have someone in on his deepest darkest secrets, including one that he hadn’t entirely opened himself up to. Months of careful prodding from her had, at least, opened his eyes to the fact that he would really only ever be her friend, but he still wasn’t ready for what that meant for him.  


He didn’t think he ever would be completely ready for that.  


He didn’t like labels.  


Shaking his head, he pushed the yearbook into his satchel and left the bus loop to begin the fifteen minute walk out of his way to the elementary school. It was a path he wouldn’t have taken before Halloween, but when he saw his younger brother waiting eagerly by the gate, he couldn’t help but smile.  


“Hey, Greg.”  


“Hiya, brother ‘o mine! Are you ready to go? It’s summer!”  


“Yeah. Let’s go, Greg. Come on.” He held out his hand, which his brother eagerly accepted.  


Greg tugged him along, skipping excitedly. His backpack’s bouncing did little to deter him. “Oh, we’re going to Oregon to see the twins!” he sang. “Mabel and Waddles and Dipper, too! I wish Beatrice could come, but she didn’t come home with us! But Jason Funderburker - our frog - did!”  


Wirt shook his head, giving the exuberant boy’s hand a squeeze. “That- that’s enough, Greg.”  


“Okay!” But he still hummed, his happy skips able to keep up with the teenager’s longer strides. “Hey, Wirt?”  


“Yeah?”  


“Do you think they’ll remember us?”  


“I...” He looked down, surprised by the question and the brief seriousness on his face. “Y-yeah. Yeah, they’ll remember us. I mean, they’re a little older now.”  


“I remember.”  


“Okay. Um. But that doesn’t mean they forgot us.” But he did wonder if they’d be pleased to see them, or how they’d react at all. Two and a half years was a long time. Would they be mad? He couldn’t remember having seen Mabel mad, or Dipper, for that matter, but they’d been twelve. Er. Thirteen. Now they’d be fifteen. His age. Oh, gosh, they were his age.  


It was difficult to wrap his mind around it, but The Unknown had been a crazy place. And it would make sense, sort of, for time to be different there. But that was still a big time gap. Huge, actually.  


It was a huge deal, Dipper had told him, promising to stay and help them get home. He’d also said that Wirt would know just how huge a deal when he’d gotten home and, boy, did he. He knew, though this he’d kept to himself, that Dipper had been willing to die for them.  


The mental reminder had him feeling guilty for considering asking his mom to cancel the trip. He’d promised to look them up, to get the page from Dipper’s journal back to him, and he could do that. It was probably going to be a mistake, but he’d do it.  


“Mabel-aide!” Greg started, humming no longer sufficing. “Mabel-aide! All join in the Mabel-aide parade!”  


Wirt felt the laugh bubbling in him, something that had been very slowly getting easier for him. He joined in on the second verse, the laugh getting in the way of the words when Greg changed it to Waddles-aide and then Dipper-aide for the third go around.  


When they arrived home, Greg wasted no time in kicking off his shoes, ditching his backpack, and barrelling down the hall calling for Jason Funderburker. Wirt followed at a more sedate pace, and picked up his brother’s backpack to properly deposit in his bedroom so he could fill it with whatever carry-on items he decided to bring with. He blinked when he found said bedroom empty, their lucky frog also missing from his tank. Jeez, the kid was fast.  


“Greg?” Wirt called out, leaving the backpack on his blue-green bedspread. “Come on, you need to finish packing! If you want to bring anything fun on the airplane, then you’ve gotta do it now.” He waited a beat, but when the seven-year-old failed to appear, he sighed and stuck his head out into the hall. “Greg?”  


“He’s in the office, sweetie,” his mom answered for him, only just managing not to collide with him as she carried a fresh load of laundry towards her bedroom.  


How she knew that when the office and laundry room were on opposite ends of the house baffled him. “Thanks.”  


Sure enough, Greg was perched on the swiveling computer chair, the seat jacked up to its highest height and even then Greg had to sit on his knees to be able to reach the mouse and keyboard properly. Wirt had a sinking feeling he knew what Greg was looking for. When the all-too familiar website with its collection of videos, viral and non, popped up on the screen, he sighed and smacked his forehead.  


“Greg, come on. What are you doing?”  


“Checking to see if Dipper’s got any new videos!” Greg replied, going straight to his brother’s account’s list of subscriptions, where Dipper’s channel was the only one.  


Not one for the digital age - there was a reason Wirt made mixtapes and read poetry and did not own a laptop or smart phone or kindle - it had taken some serious consideration, followed by serious hesitation, also followed by serious regret to suck it up and make the account: Poetic Pilgrim. With capitals and with spaces. He was not going to sacrifice proper grammar just because he was giving in and joining YouTube. It wasn’t even really giving in, he convinced himself. He’d only done it for one reason, and it had been Jason Funderberker’s fault to begin with.  


Jason Funderberker. That guy.  


While Wirt had been eating lunch with Sara and her group of friends one day - sort of his friends, too, sort of - he’d had the unpleasant experience of spitting out his drink because _Dipper Pines’s voice was coming from the speakers of Jason Funderberker’s phone_. When he demanded to see what it was, he found an entire channel full of videos on the paranormal adventures he and the other half of the Mystery Twins had. It had been an accident that Jason Funderberker found it, he’d been looking for a different video entirely, but it had been completely on purpose when Wirt snuck into the office at home that night and looked up the channel in private.  


Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained was certainly that. Wirt found that he hadn’t been kidding when he claimed that he’d seen weirder things than the Frog Fly they stumbled upon in The Unknown. There were certainly weirder things in Gravity Falls, Oregon alone than what they’d seen in that forest. Well, The Beast topped the list by a landslide, but more because he still gave Wirt the creeps despite knowing he’d been bested and because he gave his brother nightmares still.  


But other than The Beast, Gravity Falls had plenty of creepy and weird stuff to fill Wirt’s list - more than he’d like, to be honest. At first he couldn’t bring himself to click on any of the recent videos. Not when the thumbnails sometimes had a boy that only slightly resembled the one he remembered. He stayed in the summer of 2012 archive and watched the messy, hastily edited clips that a twelve-year-old had put together.  


They were really… entertaining. Even when it wasn’t about paranormal stuff! In the early videos, much of it was just the twins being the twins. The same weird kids that had easily captured Greg’s heart and Wirt’s loyalty in a matter of… well, he’d like to say minutes, but realistically it was probably an hour. For him, anyway. Greg had loved them instantly.  


After he made his account, he subscribed to the channel and went back and made sure to click the “like” button on each of the old videos. More than once his fingers hesitated over the keyboard, wondering if he should say something, type something, let him know that he was still planning on coming to see him and Mabel that summer, to give him back the page of the journal like he promised, but he held back every single time. He didn’t want their first contact since The Unknown to be over the internet. It felt cheap. Like a cop-out. Plus… he didn’t want to sound like an idiot and could never find the right words to write - despite how often he found the right words for his poems, go figure.  


It wasn’t until he watched the video called “The Tooth” that his fingers betrayed him. Without even thinking, too busy laughing at the weirdest cut-scene he’d seen of Dipper’s yet, he typed in “I like the sousaphone.” and hit enter.  


Then he panicked.  


And instead of deleting his comment, he closed out of the window before the video even finished and ran out of the room. He slammed his bedroom door - on accident, he didn’t mean for it to make that much noise - then played the clarinet for two hours until Greg came to check on him.  


He eventually went back to finish the video, feeling like a fool the entire time. The tips of his ears burned as he caught sight of his comment, sitting there, mocking him, permanently engraved on the digital canvass of the media world forever, then he scrolled back up and hit the play button.  


It was still really funny when the sousaphone showed up. _“Hey, is that a giant tooth?”_ What had possessed him to record that? Was he actually recording himself practicing and that was his honest reaction? Or was it just some sort of gag? Wirt really couldn’t tell.  


As he watched, more intrigued by the origin of the tooth as the video went on, when Mabel appeared on the screen again and started speaking, _“And I brought Bear-o! My-”_ Wirt nearly jumped out of the chair and screamed when he felt a hand on his leg. He did bang his knee on the desk though, and jeez did that hurt.  


It was only Greg, though he shouldn’t have expected anything less, and Jason Funderburker was with him, tucked under one arm.  


“Greg, don’t do that!” Wirt hissed at him, rubbing his knee.  


“Why? Did I scare you?” Greg grinned.  


“No,” he denied with a scoff. “You surprised me. What do you want?”  


“Is that Mabel?” he asked, ignoring the question to point at the screen, where he’d somehow managed to pause the video in his alarm. “It is! Whoa, what’s Mabel doing there?”  


Wirt cleared his throat and leaned back in the swivel chair. “It’s um… it’s a video that Dipper made and she’s in it-”  


“Dipper and Mabel make videos now? Wow!” Greg looked thoroughly impressed. “Can I say hi? I’m going to say hi. Hi, Mabel!”  


“What-? No, Greg-” Wirt pinched the bridge of his nose as his little brother actually waved in earnest at the computer screen. “She’s not actually there. She can’t hear you.”  


“I like your bear!”  


“Greg, shh!” Wirt went to clap his hand over Greg’s mouth, but he ducked down and crawled under the desk to escape him.  


“You shh!” came the expected reply.  


Rolling his eyes, Wirt also rolled the chair in enough that he trapped Greg under the desk. With a satisfied smirk, he watched the rest of the video while Greg attempted to free himself. Once he let go of Jason Funderburker, he was able to force Wirt’s chair back enough so he could wiggle out and onto Wirt’s lap. By the time he succeeded, the video was over.  


“Aw beans. I missed it.” Greg snapped his fingers. “Can you play it again? It sounded exciting.”  


“Do you promise not to try and say hi to Mabel? I promise you, Greg, she can’t hear you. It’s a recording.”  


“I know, I was just being funny,” he replied, settling down to watch the video. “But I promise.”  


“Okay.”  


Wirt let him watch it, figuring his little brother would get a kick out of the scenes with Bear-o. Watching the cutaway to them in the rowboat, Bear-o left behind on the shore, had both of them snickering and the older brother wondered just what tactic Dipper had used to get Mabel to do what he wanted. He’d need to remember to ask when they were in Oregon, it could come in handy to use on Greg every now and then.  


“I want more Bear-o!” Greg announced when Mabel held up the sign to the camera.  


“No, Greg. No you don’t, that thing’s creepy.”  


Greg giggled and Wirt couldn’t help his smile even as they got to the weirdest part of the video - besides Bear-o. When the head emerged from the lake and Mabel’s screams filtered the through the speaker, Dipper’s panicked face looking right into the camera as the thing hovered over their boat, Wirt felt his brother go still, his spine straighten so that he was pressed firmly against him. As the camera blinked out, all fuzz and static and white noise, Greg had gripped his hand tight enough to hurt.  


Having been used to watching these videos by now, and knowing there were hundreds more after this one, Wirt hadn’t even been fazed by the head. But even when the twins returned to close the video, with another Bear-o joke, no less, Greg still hadn’t relaxed and Wirt began to worry that despite his resilience, maybe Greg wasn’t quite ready for things like this. Who was he kidding? These were terrifying videos, definitely not suitable for a then-six-year-old.  


“Hey, Greg?” he asked softly, tucking his arms around his middle. “They’re okay. They made a lot of videos after this, that thing didn’t get them.”  


“You said things like that were only in The Unknown.”  


Wirt blinked. “What?”  


“Monsters and magic. You said those were only in The Unknown. You said they couldn’t get us here!” Greg turned around to face him, eyes wide. “Were you lying?”  


“No!” he blurted out before he could stop himself.  


A lump quickly formed in his throat as his pulse picked up because he had said that. He’d said those things were only in The Unknown, those exact words. Because Greg was worried about The Beast and turning into a tree and it was before he’d found these videos and how could he be so stupid? How could he forget that he told him things like that didn’t exist? Not on their plane of existence, at least.  


Taking a deep breath, Wirt brought him in for a hug that Greg accepted with uncertainty. “No, Greg, I wasn’t lying. I really thought that… that kind of stuff was only in The Unknown.”  


“So it could be anywhere?”  


“No. I don’t think so,” Wirt was quick to reply. “I- I think it has to be somewhere that has… that has a strong connection to… weird things. So like… like Gravity Falls. It’s a weird place with weird people. That’s where Mabel and Dipper are in this video. That’s where all their videos take place, mostly. Only a few places get to be really in tune with the weird stuff. With the monsters and the magic. It’s not here, Greg. I promise, we would’ve noticed weird things happening here by now. I’m pretty sure we’re safe from things like The Unknown and lake monsters here.”  


Greg relaxed a little, enough to hug him back and accept his words as truth - a perk and a curse of being the older brother - but something still ate at him. “But we’re going to Gravity Falls. This summer.”  


Wirt pursed his lips and swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah we are. But nothing’s gonna get us, okay Greg? We’re not from around there, so we won’t be as connected to the things there and as long as we play it safe and fly under the radar, then nothing bad should happen. Things like that mostly affect the locals anyway. Probably.”  


“But Dipper and Mabel aren’t locals,” Greg protested. “You said they’re from California!”  


“Well, they spend every summer there. That makes them sort of locals. More local than us.” Wirt slumped when his brother just continued to look at him. “Nothing’s going to happen to us when we’re there, Greg. I won’t let anything. You trust me, right? And… and if that’s not enough, then we’ll have Dipper and Mabel with us to help look out for us. They’re monster and magic experts, after all! Mystery Twins. They’ve got all these videos here and they’re all about monsters and magic. They don’t let it stop them.”  


This seemed to capture Greg’s attention and inspire some reassurance in him. “Really? How many videos are there?”  


“Hundreds.” Wirt reached around him for the mouse and clicked back to the list of Dipper’s videos. “See? We can watch some more, if you want, and you can see for yourself. We’d be in very capable hands.”  


“Wow, yeah!” Just the sheer amount of clips seemed to brighten Greg’s mood. “Is Mabel in all of them?”  


“Not all of them, but we’ll watch the ones where she does show up,” he promised, heading back to the 2012 playlist when Greg stopped his hand. “Greg?”  


“Why does that guy have Dipper’s hat?” he asked, pointing at one of the thumbnails showing Dipper at fifteen, with pine tree cap and all.  


Greg hadn’t known then. Wirt hadn’t figured out just how to tell him that there had been some kind of time gap and that the twins as they knew them were from two and a half years ago and that the ones they’d be meeting that summer would be older. Different. Maybe they wouldn’t even like them. No, he hadn’t known how to tell him, especially when he barely understood it as well, but he wasn’t going to lie to him. Not when Greg deserved to know, too.  


“That is Dipper, Greg. He and Mabel… they’re actually fifteen years old. Like me. When we saw them… that was them in the past for us, and we were from their future, technically.”  


It had been weird to explain, and Wirt tripped over his own words several times, but luckily Greg didn’t need much explaining on that. It only took one of Dipper’s current videos to convince his little brother and he took it in stride.  


“It doesn’t matter that they’re older. They’re still Dipper and Mabel,” he explained with a shrug.  


He certainly took that better than Wirt had.  


Now, with only a week before they were scheduled to arrive in Gravity Falls, Oregon, he and Greg had watched almost all of Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained - with Wirt screening some of the episodes ahead of time, to make sure they were appropriate - except for one.  


“There is!” Greg chirped happily, pointing to the screen while Jason Funderburker croaked by his side. “Wirt, there’s a new video! Come watch!”  


Wirt glanced over his shoulder towards their mom’s room, but she was still busy packing it seemed. They probably had a few minutes. Shooting him a grin, Wirt slipped into the office and nudged the door so it was open only a crack, then leaned his elbows on the desk beside Greg while he clicked on the video.  


There was the usual static. Three years of videos hadn’t improved Dipper’s editing skills. For this one, though, he didn’t have a sign. He also, though this was usual, hadn’t bothered with a script. “Okay, so school’s out-”  


“Woo!” was heard off screen.  


“Which means we’re heading back to Gravity Falls. I have no idea when I’m putting this up, so timeframe’s in the description. If I remembered.” The teenager shrugged, and the video went to black. There was a beat of silence. “Mabel!”  


Muffled laughter and an audible scuffle later, the lights were back on but Dipper had lost his hat. Mabel slid into frame, wearing it backwards and paired with dark sunglasses. She wasted no time in break dancing just at the corner of the screen and Dipper’s gaze flicked, presumably to the video feed he could see.  


He didn’t comment on her performance. “As usual, the timeframe of uploads will be whenever they happen. You can’t tell when something paranormal will happen. That’s why they’re - you know, they’re unexplained. But we’ve got big plans for this summer.”  


“The biggest!”  


“Mabel! Shut! Up!”  


In response, she touched her foot to the boombox she’d brought with her and began performing the running man. He sighed, though couldn’t be heard over the music, and then tackled her. They tussled until she could be put into a headlock and the music was shut off. “You’re literally the worst. Why are you even in my room?”  


“Reasons.” She grinned and flashed a thumbs-up to the camera, and Dipper released her. His cap was tugged back on, and Mabel boogied right out of frame.  


“Gravity Falls again. Date’s in the description. Prepare for videos. That-” The lights shut off again. “I can’t get through one sentence!”  


“That was at least four.”  


“Video’s over! Get out of my room!” he ordered and the video ended with her laughter.  


When the video officially stopped, the links to other related content appearing in the player for them to peruse, the brothers sat there for a minute and let it sink in. The twins were going to Gravity Falls. They were going to Gravity Falls, in just a week, following whatever adventures California had in store. Whether their arrival would be welcomed or not, while the thought still had his stomach churning, was out of their control. Dipper and Mabel would either be happy to see them… or they wouldn’t.  


“I’ve missed them,” Greg sighed.  


Wirt set his hand atop his head and ruffled his little brother’s hair. “Me too, Greg. Me too.”  


And the part of him that was focused on the twins being just as happy to see them? Well, that part was sure that no matter how much he and Greg missed them, it paled in comparison to however much Dipper and Mabel had to have missed them. If two hundred and twenty-nine days was a long time, he couldn’t imagine what two and a half years seemed like.


	2. Chapter 2

In California, two twins were packing for their fourth summer in Gravity Falls. It was just as haphazard as ever. “Mom!” Dipper shouted from the top of the stairs. “Where’s my Bad First Impressions shirt?”  


“I’m not the keeper of your clothes!” she called back and the teenager groaned, darting back into his room. His twin sat on his bed, knitting rather than completing her own packing. She was extending the sleeves of a green sweater she hadn’t touched since the summer before, but neither mentioned the reason for the elephant stitched onto the front.  


Neither could bring themselves to, Mabel because she worried about having her hopes dashed and Dipper wary of dashing them. He squeezed her shoulder as he passed, heading to dig through his junked closet for the fourth time. Her hair brushed the edges of the bedspread even with her head tilted forward, though her headband had been replaced by a simple tied scarf. Ballet flats had been kicked off, the rainbow colored shoes in the corner of Dipper’s room.  


“Good thing we’re not leaving til tomorrow, huh? You’ll never find the time to wash all your clothes.”  


“My clothes are clean,” he argued, triumphant as he finally found the t-shirt bearing the logo of his favorite nerd band. “Mom washed them.”  


“You’re so gross,” she teased.  


“And yet you’re still in my room.” He waved his hands to encompass the space they had once shared. “Mine.”  


Mabel stuck her tongue out at him. While working on this particular sweater, though they wouldn’t discuss it aloud, she felt better being in his room. Even though his way of packing was all wrong. “You forgot to pack your deodorant,”  


“I didn’t forget. I just haven’t done it yet.”  


“You’re going to forget.”  


“Shut up, Mabel.”  


“You always forget.”  


“Mabel!”  


There was a knock on his door by their passing father. “Don’t yell at your sister.”  


“Wha-? Oh my god. I quit.”  


Mabel laughed and fell back. “So what are the plans this summer?”  


“I think we find out if those werewolves are still there. Maybe they won’t try to bite us this time since you helped one of their kids last summer. I’m hoping they’ll know about werehares. I still haven’t been able to track down their hiding place.  


“Then I guess find out if that succubus in the first book is really banished or just another thing trapped in sap or-”  


“Peanut brittle.”  


“Not peanut brittle. Though reminds me.” He dumped socks on top of his growing piles of clothes, not entirely certain how he was going to close the suitcase. “Any luck getting the eighth and a half president to make a guest appearance at Pioneer Day this year?”  


“I don’t know. I think it would make Pacifica mad.”  


“I think it’d make her parents madder than it would her.” Dipper’s smile was a little mean. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.” He dodged the pillow she threw at him, laughing. “If you’re going to throw stuff, go to your own room.”  


“Nope. You’re stuck with me!” She rolled onto her stomach, setting her sweater aside in favor of turning the pages of Dipper’s journal. His paranormal one rather than the personal one he thought she didn’t know about. While the discovery of the author had been an incredible one, Dipper had decided to pick up the torch in his own way rather than following their great-uncle’s footsteps. There were secrets, they were discovering, that even the three journals didn’t have all the answers to.  


He had taken to the idea of invisible ink, seeing the value in it and amused at all the ways in which it could be used. The previous summer, invisible arrows drawn onto cave walls had gotten them out of a two-day excursion that had nearly given Grunkle Stan a heart attack. He’d denied any sense of worry, of course, but the twins knew better.  


They knew what Grunkle Stan’s face looked like when he thought they were gone.  


“Any new hits on your channel?”  


“Like, ten more subscribers. We’re almost at three million. We’ll have to do something. Plus I just uploaded the reminder video. Heading back to Gravity Falls, keep an eye out, blahblahblah.”  


“Oh, yeah. Didn’t we record that last weekend?”  


“Yeah.”  


She gasped suddenly. “For three million, let’s interview Mermando!”  


“Let’s not do that. I don’t think he’d go for it anyway.”  


She sat up, poking her cheeks and batting her lashes. She’d clung to her cuteness and knew just when to activate it. “He’d do it for me.”  


Unaffected, Dipper pushed her face until she fell back again and made her laugh. “I’ll think about it. Maybe we’ll redo some of the older ones, update them so they’re actually helpful and not just us running for our lives.”  


“To be fair, we were twelve.”  


He shoved his clothes down, doing his best to zip up the too-full suitcase. “True. But that’s exactly why they need to be updated. We won’t use a row boat with the lake monster this time, and we’ll try to find something just as distracting as TV for the candy monster thing.”  


“Speaking of candy, what are we doing for Summerween?”  


“I don’t know yet. We’ll play that by ear.”  


She scooted up, snagging another pillow and hugging it to her chest. “You know trick-or-treating as a teen is in style now.”  


“Nope. There’s nothing in style about us wearing matching costumes at fifteen, Mabel.”  


“They don’t have to match,” she insisted. “Well, not completely.”  


He pushed up the bill of his cap to glare at her, the light blue pine tree faded but still clear. It was worn along the edges, a sign of its constant use and his disinterest in letting Mabel stitch it for him. He thought it was cooler busted up, though the ballcap with his high school team had been getting more use as of late. He was actually tempted to bring it to Gravity Falls with him, but the one he’d put on automatically once school was finished was the one he really wanted.  


It was familiar, comfortable, and it was who he was. He ducked down to unplug one of his laptops, checking the power supply for any signs of fraying cords, and glanced up when his twin spoke again.  


“I love you, Dipper.”  


The words, so sudden and so serious, had caught him off guard. But he saw where her gaze was now and shivered. “Don’t do this, Mabel.”  


His gaze fell to the sweater as well when she began to pluck at the soft fabric. “Maybe...”  


“No, Mabel, don’t say it.”  


“This summer, maybe... Just humor me, Dipper.”  


He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t think about it, them, or it tore him up. He went to her, pulling her off the bed with an ease he hadn’t had at twelve, and dropped down, cradling her in his lap. “Don’t do this to yourself, Mabel.”  


She trembled, fingers curling into the back of his shirt. “You don’t know. They could remember us this summer.”  


He doubted it. He very much doubted it. After two and a half years and no luck in finding a Greg and a Wirt in Massachusetts, Dipper had drawn his conclusions. They just hadn’t made it out of The Unknown. A lot of kids got into mischief around Halloween, and with no way to say exactly how long they had been in The Unknown to begin with - the three to four hours he and his sister had spent had been nearly a week - so he had expanded his research to a two month radius. Three months out of sheer desperation once, but there had been nothing. Plenty of Gregs, but none the right age and description, and absolutely no Wirts. It could’ve been a nickname, he’d rationalized, but there had been no way to find out for certain.  


And they couldn’t have forgotten. The hours they’d spent were crystal clear in the minds of each twin, even two and a half years later. It had to be the same for Greg and Wirt, even though Greg had only been six. Besides, he’d given Wirt a page out of one of the journals and he’d made him promise to return it. Even if they had forgotten, wouldn’t Wirt have found it strange to see an unfamiliar page with two names and a small town absolutely no one had ever heard of written in the corner?  


He refused, just refused, to believe that Wirt wouldn’t try to find out just who that page belonged to after two years. He wanted to, yes, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t paint Wirt in that dull a light. Not with Greg with him too. It only left the one option, the one thing his sister couldn’t accept.  


She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that the two of them had survived - them! The Mystery Twins! - yet had left two others behind. And one of them being in first grade? It was low, too low for her optimism to take.  


He couldn’t humor her, though, couldn’t pretend, not even for her, that there was hope. He only stroked her hair. “Don’t cry, Mabel.”  


“I’m not,” she denied, but his shoulder was getting damp. “He was so small!”  


He closed his eyes, unable to find words to comfort her. How could he when he couldn’t even find them for himself? There was just a simple finality that had spurred on his Guide to the Unexplained in a bigger way than he’d planned for it too. The small fortune he’d convinced his parents to spend on cameras and camera equipment was proof enough of that. The time he spent documenting the supernatural, giving out tips and tricks to help others survive.  


Whether in the real world or in The Unknown, he wanted to do everything he could to help. There wouldn’t be another Greg or another Wirt on his watch. Even when the cameras weren’t turned on, he was working. Only a fraction of his exploits made it in the very unprofessional and very understaffed _Gravity Falls Gossiper_ , but there were plenty more tales to tell. Plenty more beasts to battle and monsters to ensnare and have dealt with by higher authorities. Or, well, actual authorities. At the end of the day he was still just fifteen. This summer, anyway.  


Mabel squirmed in his lap, resting her cheek on his dry shoulder, and he rolled his eyes. “Better now?”  


“I’m going to finish hemming the sweater. Just in case,”  


He opened his mouth to argue with her, but it was just the one thing he couldn’t fight about. “Okay. I need to finish getting my equipment together.”  


“Okay.” She took his hat, dropping it onto her own head because it made her feel better, and rolled off of him. The sweater was taken up, her needles clicking quietly while Dipper gathered his mass of electronics and packed them all with far more care than he’d shown his clothes.  


When he was done and leaving his room with his glove and a baseball in hand, she left to finish her own packing and to make sure the sweater fit properly. She and Dipper were bound to stop growing eventually, right?  


She swapped the light pink sweater for the green one. It was one of the only ones she still had that resembled her style of two years before. She’d like big, thick sweaters then. Now she liked thinner fabric, a wider neckline. But this one suited. She closed her eyes, hugging herself since Dipper was probably in the backyard practicing his pitching. “Even if I don't see you this year, little elephant, I’ll wear the sweater. I promise.”

\----

Mabel wasn’t sure if she’d ever bother getting her full license, not when she had so many available chauffeurs. As that week’s top forty spilled from the radio, she and Waddles danced in the backseat with her mother shaking her head fondly.  


In the front of the brand new SUV the twins had gotten in anticipation of their driving permits, their father gripped the overhead handle with white knuckles. “You don’t have to ride their bumper.”  


Dipper huffed. “I know, dad. I’m thirty thousand feet away from them, okay? That’s kind of why I keep getting cut off and why we won’t be at the Mystery Shack for another six years.”  


“If you’re going to snap at me, you can just pull over and get in the back with your sister.”  


“Where am I supposed to pull over? There’s no curb here and traffic’s everywhere.” When he lifted a hand off the wheel to gesture, their father wheezed. “I know what I’m doing.”  


“You’ve been driving regularly a couple of months, and you only have a permit. Now watch your mouth.”  


“Ugh.”  


Their mother leaned forward, patting her son’s shoulder. “Calm down, honey. There’s no need to drive angry. And you calm down, too,” she said to her husband. “He’s doing just fine.”  


“Just because Uncle Stan was letting Dipper drive without our permission and illegally-”  


“It’s Grunkle Stan! We all know he does what he wants,” Dipper defended. “He’s a great teacher.”  


“Dipper, you just went by the exit,” Mabel pointed out, giggling when he smacked his forehead.  


“Are you serious?! Dad!”  


“Maybe if you were watching the road-”  


“Oh my god!” He took the next exit, checking his mirrors as he merged, and his father grabbed at his heart like an overdramatic lunatic. The GPS squawked at him, and he followed its directions while Mabel distracted their dad by making Waddles dance on the armrest between them.  


Somehow, someway, the Pines family made it into Gravity Falls with all limbs intact. Dipper’s temper was decidedly frayed, though, so he jerked out one of his bags from the trunk after slamming the driver’s door. “We don’t have to leave this car for you!” his dad warned.  


“Oh my god. Don’t, then! Where, oh, where will we find transportation?”  


“Hun, really, leave him be. He’s doing just fine. You panicking bothered him.”  


Mabel was the last out of the car, digging out one of her suitcases from the trunk while her parents bickered. To distract them - because there was no need for everyone to be mad when they weren’t going to see each other the rest of the summer - she threw her arms around them each. “Dipper just doesn’t like being told when he’s not doing something right. He’ll be okay. You’re not really going to take the car, right? We might need it.”  


He hesitated, but sighed, running a hand through his little girl’s hair. “No. Just tell your brother to check his attitude.”  


“We’ll check it for all the usual diseases and maybe some new ones!” she promised and skipped off, her suitcase wheels bouncing behind her and her pig tucked under her arm until they were safely inside and he could roam. “Grunkle Stan!” she called, waving at the man as she passed him. “Mom and dad are outside!”  


“Is that what Dipper was muttering about?”  


“Dad thinks he’s a bad driver.”  


“I hate to break it to you, kid, but your dad’s a control freak. If he’s not behind the wheel, it’s wrong.”  


“Will somebody tell him that?” Dipper demanded, just reaching the top of the stairs. Mabel laughed aloud, following him up. He had the attic, but she had the mystery room they’d found during their first summer there. Thankfully, the body-swapping carpet had been put away long ago. Except, of course, for the one video Dipper had insisted they make. And had never posted because even he’d realized how absolutely awkward and crazy it was to display himself in his sister’s body. And how impossible to prove.  


“Don’t worry, Dipper. They’ll be gone soon.”  


“Yeah, I know. I just wish he’d cut it out, you know? I wasn’t going to crash. I know how to drive.”  


“He just hasn’t seen some of the things you’ve done in the golf cart.”  


“He’d kill us. He’d kill us until we were dead and then make sure we haunted him so he could kill us again.”  


It couldn’t be denied, so his sister only giggled and headed into her room while Dipper mounted the next flight of steps to his. He chucked his suitcase onto the unmade bed and went to the window, immediately climbing onto the window seat to push the stained glass open. He watched Grunkle Stan walk out of the Shack to talk to his parents, and sighed huffily. They would be gone soon, as Mabel said, and wouldn’t be seen for the remainder of the summer.  


“Aw, man,” he mumbled, and headed back down the stairs. He passed the handyman on the way, giving him a thrilled high-five. “Hey, Soos.”  


“Hey, dude. I think I fixed that miles per hour calculator doohickey if you want to practice later.”  


“The radar gun?” He grinned. “Cool. Thanks, Soos. I’ve gotta get the rest of my stuff out of the car, but later?”  


“Need any help?”  


Not with his electronics. Soos was his best friend, hands down, besides Mabel, but he couldn’t be trusted with certain breakable objects. His other gear, though... “Yeah. Thanks.”  


He lead the way, hauling his camera bags and swung his laptop cases over his shoulders. “Blue one’s mine. Purple one’s Mabel’s.”  


“Got it, dude.” Soos hauled out both remaining suitcases. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Pines. What’s up?”  


“Hello, Soos. How’s your grandmother?”  


“She’s good.” He’d give them a thumbs-up, but his hands were full, so he grinned instead and went back in just as Mabel was flying out to grab her bedroll.  


She paused to throw her arms around her parents again. “Are you guys sure you can’t wait for the next bus? Like, the really super late one?”  


“No, honey, we should get going.” Her mother wrapped her up, rocking side to side. Her baby had gotten so tall. Bless her for still being such a child. She smiled when her son jogged over, dipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Though he tended to go without it at home, a dark blue vest was his typical wear in Gravity Falls, and he’d pulled it on while in the attic. It simply had the best pockets.  


He was a brat, his mother thought fondly, but he still returned her hug when she reached for one. “You behave for Grunkle Stan, alright?”  


“Okay.”  


“And please no driving without someone over twenty-one.”  


“Okay.”  


“And don’t say okay to everything I tell you.”  


He grinned. “Okay.” She pinched his side and he hugged her again, a little tighter, and he was her little boy again. “We’ll be fine, mom. I promise.”  


He hedged when faced with his dad, still annoyed with his critique, but melted a little when his father wrapped him in a hug. “Your driving’s fine,” he muttered. “Sorry.”  


“You planning on yelling at the bus driver, too?” he joked, and got his hat twisted.  


“Maybe. I was thinking about it.”  


“We are not sitting next to each other,” their mom announced, and both she and Mabel fell into a fit of laughter.  


Dipper stepped back, adjusting the old cap. “Probably a good plan, mom. We’ll see you guys before school starts up again, okay?”  


“Alright, let’s go.” Grunkle Stan thumped his cane against the ground, then jerked his head towards the Shack. “Wendy’s got the day off, and I need someone behind the register.”  


“Not it!”  


“Not- Mabel!” She laughed at him, running in. “That’s not fair!” he called, chasing after her. “Rock, paper, scissors!”  


“Not it! Not it! Not it!”  


“Good luck with them, Grunkle Stan. They’re starting to become handfuls.”  


“They were always handfuls. Now they’re just taller, even Dipper!” He flipped down his unnecessary eye patch as the bus pulled up to the stop. As tourists unloaded, his lips quirked up. Let the busy season begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was so late today, guys! We both were distracted by writing things. 
> 
> Anyway, good news! Starting next week, we're going to be updating this fic three times a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays there'll be new chapters! Hope you guys enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

There were trees in Massachusetts, there were always trees, but as Wirt peered out the window from the backseat of the rental car and watched the towering redwoods and cedars rush past in green and umber blurs, he reflected with some trepidation that there weren’t nearly this many trees. They weren’t nearly so massive - in height and in width - and he couldn’t help but be reminded of The Unknown. The feeling of being so terribly small and insignificant under the boughs of the harrowing trees leapt into his throat and tightened in his chest.

At the very least, these trees were brighter. Alive. They seemed more alive than the darkened, eternal autumn the trees in The Unknown had appeared. Though they definitely inspired a mildly concerning feeling in Wirt. The feeling of being watched.

A balled up piece of paper hit him in the back of the head. Wirt swiveled around, glaring at his fellow backseat traveller and found Greg watching him with his arms folded across his chest and a page missing from the coloring book spread on his lap. Jason Funderburker sat between them, blinking up at Wirt with a “what can you do” sort of look. If frogs could have such a look, that is. Grabbing the ball of paper, he tossed it back so it bounced off Greg’s forehead.

“What?”

“I said ‘I spy with my little eye’ ages ago, Wirt! You haven’t guessed what I spied yet,” he explained with a huff.

Right. I Spy. That was why Wirt was looking out the window. Being forced to spend so many hours in the car in order to get from one place to another meant an insane amount of games needed to be played to keep the seven-year-old strapped in beside him from continuously asking, “Are we there yet? How about now? When will we be there? Can you give me an estimate?” What kid asks for an estimate? Greg apparently.

Though, honestly, Wirt probably would’ve as well. And on this particular leg of the trip, he was just one giant bundle of nerves - both far too excited and far too terrified to wait even another minute. Maybe playing I Spy would help.

“Sorry, Greg. What was the color?” Wirt asked, angling his body to be a little more open to him.

“Gray.”

“Okay. Gray.” Wirt glanced out both windows, just in case the colors of the trees were different on his side. There were some gray ones mixed in with the umber. “Was it… a tree?”

“Nope.”

“The road? Like the asphalt?”

“No.”

“That car in front of us?” It was more of a silver, really, but Wirt wouldn’t hold that against him.

“Mm-mm! It was a squirrel and we passed it ages ago when you were staring out into space,” Greg replied.

A squirrel? What kind of eagle eyes did his little brother have? “Let’s play something else.”

“Okay,” he agreed, amiable enough.

“I don’t know if you boys will have time for another game. Looks like we’re here,” their mom piped up from the driver’s seat.

Both Wirt and Greg immediately turned to look out the right window, Wirt’s side, in time to see the sign for the exit, followed by an even smaller sign letting them know it was the exit for Gravity Falls. Wirt gulped, his skin crawling with uncertainty while Greg gasped with excitement. In just a few more minutes, maybe less, they’d be at The Mystery Shack, face-to-face with the twins who’d shared in their near-death experience. Would they be happy to see them? Would they be mad? It had been a long time for them both, what if they didn’t remember? What if they didn’t care?

“Do you think Mabel’s gonna like the picture I drew her, Wirt?” Greg asked, shoving one of his many drawings that littered the backseat of the rental car in his face.

He blinked at the blur of colors, only just able to make out some of the shapes he was going for. “Of course she’s going to like it,” he told him, and honestly he believed it. “She’s going to love it, Greg.”

Grinning, he bounced in his seat as he smoothed it out carefully. “I can’t wait to tell her and Dipper about all the things we’ve done! Like naming Jason Funderburker and going over the wall again and being in the play and the new rock facts rock I got and-”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll love to hear about all of that. But remember, they’re… we don’t know how they’re going to react when they see us. I mean, they might be really surprised that we’re not older like they are,” Wirt reminded him.

“I know. I remember.” Greg wasn’t looking at him though, instead rifling through other drawings until he found the one he was looking for. “I made this one for Dipper. It’s the monster from that one video he did. With the funny eyes and the crazy face.”

That was pretty much all the monsters he seemed to face, but Wirt quirked his lips up in a small smile nonetheless. “It looks just like it.”

“I know, right? I’m a genius.”

“You should sign your drawings. So Dipper and Mabel have the first masterpieces you ever created when you’re famous someday.” They were passing through the main street of the town now. Oh boy.

While Greg excitedly scribbled his name on each of the drawings, Wirt examined the town. It was just as small as he’d imagined - smaller than his own hometown - and now he understood why the website was the way it was. When his mom turned at the end of the street, away from the motel they’d been planning to stay at, Wirt sat up straighter and stared at the shack at the end of the tree-lined, dirt path.

“Mom? Weren’t we- uh… weren’t we going to check in first?” Wirt squeaked.

“Well, we figured it couldn’t hurt to drop you off first,” she replied, smiling at him in rearview mirror.

“But… but our luggage? We should help you with the luggage-!”

“We can handle a couple of suitcases, kiddo,” Jonathan chuckled, turning around in the passenger seat to look at them both.

“We know how excited you’ve been about meeting your pen pal,” their mom continued. “You can call me or Jonathan when you’re ready to be picked up. Besides, I know I could use a nap after that last leg of the drive. You don’t want to be stuck with your boring old parents at the motel when you could be having adventures at the Mystery Shack, right?”

The sign on top of the building bearing those exact words stared down at them as they parked the car. Jonathan burst out laughing at the fact that the S in Shack seemed to be missing, revealing that it was more of a Mystery Hack than anything.

“I like this place,” he announced while Greg unbuckled his seatbelt. “If we don’t hear from you by dinner, we’ll call to check in. Okay?”

“Okay,” Wirt mumbled, shaking as he opened the car door.

“Bye, Mom!” Greg called, hopping out with his pages of drawings and Jason Funderburker in tow. “Bye, Dad!”

“Bye, Greg, love you,” their mom answered back, then waited for Wirt to come around to the left side of the car. “Love you, too. Try and relax and have some fun, okay?”

“I will.” He nodded a little too quickly.

“And I know we don’t have to say it, but look out for your brother.”

“I know.” His shoulders slumped a little, but he managed a wave as she rolled up the window. “Bye.”

While the rental car disappeared down the tree-lined road, Wirt was simultaneously struck again by how many trees there were and also by the heat. Wasn’t Oregon supposed to be cold and gloomy? Or was that Washington? Even though he had packed more summer-appropriate clothes, he’d pretty much stuck to the kind of outfits he was most comfortable in, choosing to wear pants instead of something more sensible like shorts. Not to mention his sweater. He rubbed his arm a little, the heat making his skin prickle beneath the navy fabric, but he was loathe to remove it nonetheless.  

Without the sound of the car and the music piped out of the little radio, Wirt discovered that Gravity Falls was quiet. A different sort of quiet than he was used to. And that feeling of being watched returned. He shuddered a little, then felt something tug on the hem of his shirt.

“Are we gonna go inside?” Greg asked, pointing to the door for the customers.

“Y-yeah.” Wirt nodded, taking Greg’s hand and a deep breath as he led him towards the sign that said, “Gift Shop.”

He hesitated over the handle. Just on the other side of that door were the only two people who knew what they’d gone through at Halloween. Who understood. Who they’d somehow befriended in the span of less than a day and had risked their lives for them. Who either waited two and a half years to hear from them… or hadn’t and didn’t care.

“Want me to open the door?” Greg offered.

“I’ve got it.” Wirt shook his head, then pushed open the door.

It was an ordinary gift shop. T-shirts, bobbleheads, snowglobes, keychains littered the shelves - all of weird things and boasting an insane amount of question marks - but ordinary enough trinkets on their own. Wirt glimpsed a set of blue and white ballcaps with a pine tree on the front, surprised at first, then he mentally kicked himself because of course Dipper had to get the hat from somewhere. Greg oohed over it all quietly while Wirt started searching for one or both of the people they’d come in here looking for. He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved to see that they weren’t there. From what he could tell, there was only a red-headed young woman decked out in flannel lounging by the cash register, so unless Dipper and Mabel were hiding in the rafters - Wirt glanced up to check just in case - then he and Greg had awful timing and maybe if he called his mom right now, she’d turn around and get them.

“Hi! Are Dipper and Mabel home?” Wirt blinked, not realizing Greg had let go of him to run over to the counter to ask the redhead questions with little to no preamble.

She looked up from her magazine, then leaned over to see him over the counter. She laughed. “Nice frog, kid. They went out, like, two hours ago or something with their camera. Should be back pretty soon.”

“Okay.” Greg smiled, giving Jason Funderburker a pat on the head for being a nice frog while Wirt hesitantly came up behind him. “Is it okay if we wait for them here? My brother and I came all the way here to see them.”

“Pssh. Sure.” She waved it off. “I don’t care. If Stan comes in - bad suit, ugly bolo tie - just pretend like you’re actually interested in-”

“Mabel, that was basically a complete waste of time!”

“Aw, not completely! We’ve got footage for the next video! And we know where the werehares are! That’s a win for the Mystery Twins, bro-bro!”

The door swung open, revealing the twins. Dipper scrubbed his hands through his hair, leaves falling out wildly. Only then did they break the threshold and start across the room to get to the Employees Only door. His hat was tugged back on, a faded version of the ones on the shelf. “Yeah, great. Wish we would’ve known about them being tracked by some crazy hunter beforehand. Did you see how thin their pelts were? Who would want to bother tracking them down just to wear that?”

“A crazy person,” she replied decisively, a twirl highlighting her words.

“You would know.”

The older teen glanced at the two brothers then back at the twins. She was used to these sorts of conversations. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Wendy!” they greeted, passing her by. “Hey, Wirt. Hey, Greg,” was tacked on more out of politeness than actual awareness.

“Seriously, though, we could turn this footage into an awareness campaign. Don’t hunt the-” Both froze in unison just as they reached the door. They both turned and finally, really took in what they were seeing.

The moment it clicked - Greg and Wirt, The Unknown, neither of them had aged - they both took a simultaneous leap back and started to scream, one far more excited and the other far more panicked.

The excited twin rushed forward first. The answers, to her, didn’t matter as much as the moment. Her moment was full of the seven year old child who hadn’t died, his brother who hadn’t died. They were there. There were alive and real, and she swept Greg up to squeeze him and tossed her other arm around Wirt. He was still taller than she was, but now it was nothing for her to sling an arm around his shoulder. She kissed both their cheeks.

“You’re both okay! You’re okay!” Wirt was released so she could twirl around the floor with Greg.

Dipper threw his hands up, pacing. He kept staring from Wirt to Greg, mind whirling as he tried to fully process this. They were alive. They were actually, really alive. And they weren’t in their Halloween costumes, which meant time had passed for them. And Wendy could clearly see them, so they weren’t ghosts.

They were there, flesh and blood and real. He hadn’t left them alone to die.

Dipper grasped his chest, facing Wirt full on. He hadn’t left them to die in The Unknown.

But now fresh thoughts sprang and he was pacing again. “How are you here? How are you the same age? How did you make it out? When did you make it out? What year was it for you guys? The page said time was an illusion!

“It was an illusion! You’re here, though, and that’s awesome! But how are you here? You remembered to come here! How- What- I’m freaking out!”

“Here, dude, chill.” Wendy tossed him a can of pitt cola and he pressed the chilled beverage to his brow rather than cracking it open.

“Greg and I are going upstairs!” Mabel announced, springing through the Employees Only door. “We have to tell Waddles they’re here!”

“My brain’s going to explode.”

“Not in here, okay? If Stan makes me clean up your brain guts, I’m gonna have to quit. Like for real this time.”

His laugh was more like a wheeze, but he no longer seemed quite as panicked. He cracked open the soda, chugging half of it in one go, and then took a couple of careful breaths. “So. Hi, Wirt. I got shot at, like, twenty minutes ago and now you’re here. So it’s been kind of a crazy day. And I have a million questions. I don’t even know where to start.”

He spun around and strode through the Employees Only door. Wendy looked from it to Wirt and reached out to nudge the teenager. “That means follow him, dude.”

“But- but it says ‘employees only’ and-? Okay… um. Right, okay.” A little dizzy from the whirlwind of a reaction he’d just witnessed, Wirt took half a step towards the door Dipper had gone through, almost tempted to run and grab Greg because he hadn’t been prepared to be alone, then solidified his resolve and walked right into the door. Literally right into it because it opened right as he got there.

Dipper winced. “Uh. Sorry? I didn’t-” He grabbed Wirt’s wrist and pulled him through the doorway. “Let’s _go_ , man!”

“Sorry! I- yeah. Didn’t know that meant follow you and I’m not an employee, but you are so okay.” Despite having just been smacked in the face with a door, he felt the strong urge to smack himself again. “Sorry, this isn’t how I wanted to start this. I’m not really sure how I’d planned on this, but I know that wasn’t it. Um… hi Dipper. You got shot at and yeah, I’m here now and- you got shot at!” His eyes bugged out as his jaw-dropped. “What were you doing? How does that even happen?”

“There was a hunter after these werehares - like werewolves but rabbits? - and he wasn’t happy with me and Mabel telling him to stop, so- Wait. That doesn’t matter.” Dipper released Wirt to wave his hands. “Okay. Let’s start with this. You seem a lot less surprised that Mabel and I aren’t, you know, thirteen, than I am that you and Greg are the exact same.”

Wirt cringed a little, crossing his arms as he gave a slight nod. “Yeah, well… that’s because I’m not? I mean, I was- don’t get me wrong, at first I didn’t believe it. I thought the Gravity Falls website was messed up or glitching with the dates, but… but you were obviously, well, you. And then I found your videos online and that just kinda proved it. Anyway, point is, Greg and I know you guys are fifteen. Like me. And we’re the exact same because we went into The Unknown this past Halloween. Of 2014. I don’t know how we met up with you in 2012, but we did.”

“Okay, this is going on the corkboard.”

“Hey!”

Dipper stopped, glancing into the living room as they passed. “What, Grunkle Stan? Kind of in the middle of something here!”

“Did your sister kidnap a kid? She just ran through here with a kid.”

“Uh. Sort of?” He jerked a thumb in Wirt’s direction, who offered a hesitant, little wave. “This is his brother, so it doesn’t really count.”

“Oh.” He finished straightening his hat, then walked by to get to the gift shop to check for the presence of customers. “I guess we can’t sell him.”

“Maybe next time, Grunkle Stan. Come on, Wirt. We really need to-”

“Dipper!” Mabel appeared at the top of the stairs, bouncing on her toes. “They watch our YouTube channel! And they came to Gravity Falls anyway!” She stared into the distance, eyes growing wider. “It’s like a miracle,” she whispered and then bolted back to her room.

“Why? Why is this- Why?” Shaking his head, Dipper started up the stairs. “We’ll go to my room unless you want your eyes to bleed from excessive pink.”

“I heard that! It’s exactly the right amount of pink!”

“Shut up, Mabel!”

“Your- uh, your room’s fine,” Wirt squeaked, pounding his fist on his chest a bit as he glanced over his shoulder to where the old man had disappeared to, following Dipper closely. “Your uncle doesn’t _really_ sell kids does he?”

“What? No! No.” He laughed, then paused and looked back. “Okay, so I wouldn’t one hundred percent put it past him, but you’ll be fine. Knowing him, if he did sell a kid, he would take the money and give them a... doll or something.”

It probably wasn’t reassuring, but it was honest. Dipper offered a smile over his shoulder and a shrug. “Trust me?”

Wirt blinked, the tension in his shoulders easing a little as he smiled weakly back. “Yeah. Okay. I mean, you did risk your life to save us from a giant Frog Fly, so I suppose I trust you enough.” He attempted to wave it off, but paused as he glanced the place Mabel had disappeared to. “Maybe I should just check on Greg for second. Just a second. Then we’ll go to the... the corkboard? The corkboard, yeah.”

He hadn’t heard a mention of the Frog Fly in well over a year. He’d had to stop Mabel from talking about it, about The Unknown. “Man...” He turned around for a minute, giving Wirt’s shoulder a squeeze. “Man, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

His hand fell away, gesturing down the hall as he led the way. “Mabel’s room’s down here. Mine’s the attic.”

Something twisted in Wirt’s gut - guilt? Regret? Something of the like - when Dipper stopped to look at him. What had they thought happened to them? If they hadn’t realized that the years had been different for them when they crossed paths. Part of him didn’t really want to know, he reflected as he followed Dipper. The scenarios he already had imagined himself weren’t anything good. He wanted to offer some sort of reassurance back, wringing his hands together as they arrived at Mabel’s room, but that would have to wait a minute as his gaze fell upon the very bright and colorful - and not nearly as pink as Dipper had led him to believe - room.

His little brother was nestled right in the middle of a sweater hurricane it seemed, Jason Funderburker perched in his lap. “Hi, Wirt!” Greg greeted with a wave, as if it had been more than a minute since he’d stood next to him downstairs. “Look! Isn’t Mabel’s room cool?”

“It sure is,” Wirt agreed, relaxing a bit at how at home Greg seemed to be already - and not at risk of being sold, Mabel wouldn’t let that happen, he was stupid for even worrying about it. “I’m going upstairs with Dipper, in case you need anything.”

“Okay. Oh! Dipper!” Greg scrambled to his feet while their frog leapt out of the way, pulling out the extra drawing from the pockets of his overalls as he darted over to him. “This is for you!”

Dipper took the drawing and shivered a little. It was really crashing down on him now. It had taken two and a half years as far as he and his sister was concerned, but they were there. They’d made it out. He bent down to pick Greg up, wrapping him in a hug. “Cool, thanks. I’ll hang it up in my room, and you can see it later.”

“Dipper! Dipper, I can’t find the sweater! What am I going to do?!” Mabel wailed, tugging at her hair.

Her twin sighed, shifting Greg under one arm. He tugged her door partially closed to grab the green, elephant bearing sweater off the hook there, and chucked it at her.

“Yes!” She pulled off her blue sweater without preamble, her tank top quickly covered by the one she’d been revising for two years. “See?!” she chirped, tugging it to display the image to both brothers. “I told you I’d make one!” Tears sprang to her eyes and Dipper took a very fast step forward.

“Don’t!”

She covered her mouth, eyes blurry with tears. “Dipper, they’re here.”

“I know. I know they are.” He passed over the boy so she could rub their cheeks together. “Just- You know, don’t cry right now.”

“I’m so happy,” she squeaked, but bit back the tears for her brother’s sake. “I told you they’d be back. I told you.”

He bowed his head, staring at the drawing Greg had given him. “I know... Wirt and I are going upstairs.”

“We’ll be up soon! Oh! We’ll be in the kitchen or the living room or here.” She grinned, rubbing her cheek to the boy’s again. “I don’t know where we’ll be!”

“Just don’t leave the house.” He reached out and ruffled Greg’s hair. “Thanks for the drawing, really. It’s great.”

“You’re welcome!” Greg chirped. “Sorry it took so long for us to get here.”

“Yeah…” Wirt rubbed his arms, unable to look at Mabel while there were still tears in her eyes, but he was able to shift his gaze to Greg. “Be good for Mabel, okay? Don’t wander away from her and- and do what she says.”

“I won’t just be good, I’ll be the best,” Greg promised, throwing up an a-okay sign with his fingers to prove it. “Jason Funderburker, too!”

“Okay.” He nodded, then glanced over at Mabel. “It’s really good to see you. And even if it was sort of out of our control… I am sorry. We’re both sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. You’re here now, so it’s okay.” She poked Greg’s nose, grinning. “We can have our summer adventures, just like I promised.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, considering it crisis averted, and walked out. “Come on. I need to plug my camera in and download the files from it anyway. And I still have a ton of questions if you’re up to answering them.”

“Of course,” Wirt agreed, following him after returning Greg’s wave goodbye. “I mean, it’s the least I can do. I’m sure you’ve thought up… a lot of questions.”

“You have no idea.”

Dipper’s room was entirely unlike his sister’s. He hadn’t bothered to paint the walls when she’d moved downstairs, instead covering them in corkboards, whiteboards, and a handful of posters from the bands he liked. He went to one of the few not-filled boards and tacked Greg’s picture right in the middle.

There was a sousaphone set in the corner, the case open and on the floor beside it. It was empty but for a baseball glove and a couple of baseballs that definitely didn’t belong there.

In the other corner was his desk, which, really, took up more space than Mabel’s bed once had. He went to that and the three laptops spread across it, grabbing a cord and plugging in his video camera.  A few quick clicks had the video files transferring to a hard drive. The rest of his equipment was stacked carefully, the neatest pile in the room, on the corner of the desk.

“Okay. Sit, uh... anywhere, I don’t care.” He pushed the window open as he passed, letting in fresh air, and went to one of his corkboards. He flipped it, the information he had on werehares being replaced by the information he had on The Unknown.

He frowned at it, hands going to his hips. “Real world time, how long were you guys there?”

“Eight minutes. Maybe a little less.” Wirt rubbed the back of his neck, lowering to the edge of Dipper’s bed after a few moments of deliberation and cleared his throat. “We were drowning, so it wasn’t long.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” He frowned at old calculations, tugged a pen out of his pocket. “Mabel and I were there for a week, real time. We fell off a cliff and went into a coma. But we were only in The Unknown a hour or two.” Dipper chewed on the edge of his pen, mentally calculating the time. “You and Greg were there a few days, right?”

“A week… I think we were there a week.” Wirt picked at the hem of his shirt, brow furrowing. “How can the time differences be… that different? I mean, you guys were in a coma. Greg and I did go to the hospital, but we were only there for observation and to make sure we didn’t have hypothermia or anything. Unless…”

Wirt hopped up from the bed to pace. “You guys were in a controlled environment - a hospital - after falling off the cliff. Jeez, I can’t believe you fell off a cliff. You fell off a cliff? Nevermind. Sorry, um… where was I going with this? Controlled environment, right. You were probably in the hospital for most of your time in The Unknown. Greg and I were in the water the entire time. I know, because I woke up and pulled him and Jason Funderburker out of the lake, so we were both out by the time we went to the hospital. Maybe that had something to do with it? I don’t know… falling off a cliff sounds like a much bigger deal than almost drowning.”

“I don’t know. I’d rather fall than drown.” Dipper cupped his chin, frowning at the difference. “This is ridiculous. Assuming time in The Unknown to real world time, you were at a one to one ratio, and Mabel and I are 120 to seven for time. Then you factor in our initial fall taking place November 2nd. We woke up on the 9th. Everything for you happened on Halloween night two years later.”

He removed his hat to rake a hand through his hair, glaring at his corkboard. There was less clarification than there had been, which was frustrating. “Time sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Wirt snorted, sitting back down with a bounce. “The whole two year difference for us seriously doesn’t make any sense. I mean, I sort of made peace with time going faster in The Unknown than here in real time, but if it wasn’t the same for you, then I have no idea what was happening. All I know is it wasn’t a dream because Greg remembered it too well and I still had- oh, right.”

Wirt reached into his pocket and pulled out the carefully folded and creased page of the journal. He smoothed it out, the facts on gnomes staring him back in the face - he’d almost thought it was a sort of joke or insult at first, but the page had been different in The Unknown. Clearing his throat, he got up and handed it to Dipper.

“Your journal page. I know it’s late, but uh… I was all out of time machines back home.”

“As someone who’s been there, done that, you don’t want to mess with a time machine.” Dipper stared at the page. Once it had revealed a clue how to get home, and Dipper had written his and Mabel’s name on it so Wirt would know to find them. It still had their names, but the facts about gnomes had him sighing.

“Anyway, I don’t care if it’s late. You kept your promise, and that’s...” He hadn’t expected it to happen. He’d given up on it ever happening. “Thanks.” He returned his hat to his head and went to his bookshelf. The three journals were tucked behind mystery novels, at least the two he hadn’t needed that day, and he withdrew the one with the number three on its cover. He taped it back in.

“So, uh, how did you get out? One page never changed back, and I’ve never been able to figure out why.” He gestured to the corkboard and the page he’d tacked on. “What happened after we left?”

Just glimpsing the name “Adelaide” on the page had Wirt bristling. “Well, uh… we snuck on the ferry and got caught because we didn’t pay and were chased around by frog police who wanted to take us to frog jail- sorry, that part’s not important. Anyway, we managed to stay on the ferry because I played the bassoon, and those frogs really love the bassoon, so we got off at Adelaide’s stop. Beatrice had been acting really weird the entire time though, and she- she was kinda taking us to Adelaide to… trade us? I guess? For a pair of scissors that would turn her and her family human again.

“She changed her mind though. She didn’t want to go through with it, but I got mad because I thought she totally betrayed us when I’d thought we were friends, the two of you had just gone off, and I had no idea what the answer to getting home was, so I took Greg and we left. We got away. Then we were lost for while and… and The Beast found us and it was my fault. _Ugh_.”

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Wirt hunched over, staring at the whorls in the wooden floorboards. It was weird, being able to talk about this so freely. Of course, he’d talked about it with Greg, but he was always conscious of just how much he was letting him know. He was still young, he didn’t have to know everything. Beatrice’s betrayal and then redemption, he didn’t need to worry about that on top of anything else.

“I don’t know how much you know about The Beast, if anything since you weren’t there very long, but… I dunno. That’s kinda how we got home. Almost getting turned into an Edelwood tree makes you appreciate, you know, not being one. And I- I had to get Greg home. I just decided that that’s what I was going to do and… and it worked. I got him home. I got him out.”

Dipper rubbed his brow, thinking of the pages he’d skimmed while in search of other things. “The Beast was... The thing with the lantern, except he couldn’t chop down trees for oil himself, so he tricks others into doing it for him. That’s all I got, though. I saw that page before the mushrooms, and didn’t bother checking it out after since, y’know, we were still dealing with the Frog Fly thing.”

He walked back to the corkboard, circling the word “Limbo” out of a list. “Maybe the time difference has to do more with what’s going through your head, with how long it takes you to really figure out what’s going on and why. Mabel realized it before I did, even though we’d both heard things - our parents, Grunkle Stan, heartbeat monitors.

“But it started to click with her how. We’d fallen, and she could’ve gone home then. She stuck around, waiting for me to figure it out too, and then... I don’t know. We both realized that falling off the cliff had been both our faults. We were arguing like idiots, but we do that all the time. We’re used to figuring that out and then apologizing to each other. And then we were home. Or, well, we could’ve been home, but we couldn’t just...”

He whirled abruptly to face him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you guys. I’m so sorry.”

Wirt looked up suddenly. “No. No, don’t be sorry. I get it now. If that was your only chance to get out, then I’m glad you did. Both of you.” His eyes caught sight of the circled word and he swallowed thickly. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be the reason you got stuck there. Besides, everything turned out alright in the end, didn’t it? Sure it took me a while, but I found the way home. I had to. And you guys did, too. You had to go with Mabel, Dipper.”

_“Okay. I have to go now. Goodbye, Wirt.”_

His hands clenched into fists while he nodded firmly. “You couldn’t have left her behind. Or let her leave you. It doesn’t work that way. So don’t be sorry. You helped us out plenty, so don’t… don’t go feeling guilty. That’s dumb.” Wirt pointed at him, attempting to look stern even as his lips quirked up.

“Yeah, but, I mean...” Two years. Two and a half years of feeling nothing but guilt because he’d left them with nothing. He flicked his gaze to the corkboard but quickly looked away again, unable to look at it. It had been so long since he’d been able to look at it.

“We thought you were dead!” he snapped, rubbing his hands over his face. “No. No, I did. I thought we’d left you and Greg and you were... I thought we left you to die. Mabel managed to convince herself that you’d just forgotten about us, about The Unknown. And... and two years is a long time to think you let two people die, okay?”

“I know.” Wirt let his hand and smile fall. “I know it is. Trust me, if I could tell my twelve-year-old self to send you a letter or something to explain, I would’ve. I wish you didn’t have to live with that for two and a half years and I can’t imagine what that was like for you and I’m sorry. But you didn’t let us die, Dipper. We didn’t die.”

“I know. I know that. I mean, you’re right here and it’s really not fair to still feel like- I don’t know. I keep thinking that I could’ve done something more. It seemed - At the time it seemed like we couldn’t just say ‘hey, we’re all kind of dying, just remember why and you’ll wake up,’ but since then... I can’t figure out why I couldn’t have.”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have believed you.” Wirt shrugged a little. “And I think… it just seems like it’s something I needed to figure out on my own. I remembered how it happened when Greg was missing, it was almost like I dreamed about it, and then once I found him… once I decided ‘that’s it, I’m taking Greg home’ it was like… I knew exactly where to go. It’s hard to explain, so I can see why you couldn’t have at the time.”

“Yeah... It was hard to stay. It hurt like... Wow, did it hurt. But I just thought if I could find anything at all to help you guys, it would all be okay. We agreed we’d make it to the ferry and then it just didn’t feel like enough time.

“Then I woke up to find the page on Adelaide halfway torn out of the journal, and I just...” Forget it. He twisted his hat to the side so he couldn’t conk Wirt in the head with it, and just hugged him. “Sorry. This is stupid, and you’re still taller than me. What’s that about? I’m so freaking glad you’re alive.”

“I’m glad I’m alive, too?” Wirt chuckled a little, awkwardly finding a way for his arms to return the embrace.

It was easier, he found, than when they’d last hugged and Dipper had been thirteen, but still awkward. He was hugging another teenage boy, how could it not be awkward? But at the same time, it was important. This guy had thought they were dead for over two years, had blamed himself for it. He deserved a good hug. He tightened his arms a little, and relaxed enough so Dipper didn’t have to feel like he was hugging a plank of wood or a tree or something.

“I know Greg and I didn’t have to wait as long to find out, but… I’m glad you’re alive, too.”

The door was kicked open and Dipper immediately stepped back. Belatedly, he remembered the corkboard and smacked it to flip it around. “Grunkle Stan!” He laughed nervously, gaze averted. “Hey, uh, so... What are you doing he- ah!” He’d flipped the corkboard too hard, so had to spin it once more to, this time, successfully hide the side he wanted to hide.

“You know I saw all that, right?”

“What? Saw what? There’s nothing to see.” Dipper tried a smile, but it was strained at the edges and his uncle was unconvinced.

“You know if I were a responsible parent this would be a big red flag.”

“Well, good thing you’re an uncle, huh?”

He considered that a moment, then chuckled. “Yeah.”

“What, uh, what’d you need?”

“Am I not allowed to check on my nephew when he brings a strange boy up to his room?”

Dipper’s eyes narrowed. Uh-uh. He was not going to get treated like Mabel. He grasped the back of his computer chair, then sent it flying after a few quick calculations. It bounced of the wall, then into the door, slamming it closed in his uncle’s face and lodging beneath the doorknob so it couldn’t be turned. “Bye, Grunkle Stan! Talk to you later!”

“I can unscrew this door, you know!”

“You sure could!” he called back, then turned the corkboard back how he wanted it.

Behind the door, his uncle muttered under his breath. “For crying out- We’re closing in five, kid. Get downstairs.”

“Okay! Just... okay.”

Cheeks and ears burning, Wirt rubbed his arms as he hovered uncertainly between Dipper and the door. “You’re not actually in trouble or anything, right?”

He gave him a puzzled look, genuinely curious. “For what?”

“I- I dunno. All that talk of red flags, strange boys, just- nevermind. I mean, Greg and I did just kinda show up out of the blue, you might’ve had plans or things you were supposed to do.”

“Oh. No. The annual fishing day thing was yesterday, so you actually had good timing. I need to go help close up, though. Soos won’t go home without saying bye and his grandma’s expecting him.” He grinned. “And you have no idea who I’m talking about, so come on.”

It took a bit of an effort to get his chair out from under the doorknob. “You guys staying at the new motel in town or...? I mean, this isn’t it, right?”

“Oh! Yeah.” Wirt grinned sheepishly as he helped wrench the chair away. “Yeah, I convinced my mom and step-dad to hang around here for a little bit. We’ll be here all day tomorrow and then some of the day after that, at least that’s the plan so far. Mom and Jonathan are pretty flexible, so I’m not quite sure what the next part of the plan is. I think they want to go to Ashland next? They want to see ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ at the Shakespeare Festival.”

Dipper pushed his chair back towards the desk, considering. “That’s it?” he asked quietly, unable to meet his gaze.

“Well… I didn’t know… I didn’t know how you’d react to seeing us, so I didn’t- I didn’t ask for longer.” Wirt wrung his hands together, worried when the other boy didn’t look at him. “I… I could ask? Maybe. If you wanted to hang out more, that is.”

“If you want to, then yeah. Yes.” Dipper started down the stairs, jamming his hands into his pockets. “It’s up to you and your parents, but yeah. I want you to stick around. I know Mabel does.”

Wirt’s heart clenched as he hurried after him. “I want to stick around, too,” he replied quietly. “Yeah. And there’s no way Greg would be against that either.”

“Cool. So I guess you find out tonight, and we can meet up tomorrow. The motel’s not far from Greasy’s Diner and Mabel and I have breakfast there a lot anyway. So... meet there around nine or ten?”

“Sure! Sounds good.” Wirt couldn’t help grinning. “Wait, is the diner really called Greasy’s? Is that a family name or just an appropriate description?”

“I’ve never asked because I really don’t want to know. Lazy Susan runs it, and we haven’t died from the food yet, though, so it’s safe.”

“Good to know.”

When they passed Mabel’s room, Wirt noted it was empty, but reminded himself that she’d said they might leave and head somewhere else in the house before his good mood could be spoiled with worrying over where they might’ve gone. Dipper had told her not to leave the house. And he’d told Greg not to wander off.

How good were their siblings at listening though?

Dipper’s train of thought went in the same direction as they went down the second set of stairs, and he was midway through sighing when he heard her laughter. “Phew. Kitchen. This way.”

Wirt released a similar breath. “Oh, good. Kitchen’s good. Great.”

Though he had to rethink that when he found his little brother’s face covered in ice cream, a big bowl of it sitting right in front of him and their frog. With a sugary smile, Greg waved at them both. “Look, Wirt! They have ice cream!”

“Yeah, I can see that, Greg,” he sighed, then raised an eyebrow. “You know we haven’t had dinner yet, right?”

“It’s a dessert before dinner kind of day, don’t you think, Wirt?” His little brother tried to reason with him while he just shook his head.

“Like this is gonna stop you from having dessert later.”

“It won’t stop Mabel either.”

She didn’t have it in her to look guilty, grinning widely as she sucked ice cream off her spoon. “Greg is wise to the ways of the world, Dipper. It is a dessert before dinner kind of day. And after.”

“You’re the worst influence ever.”

“I am not!” She laughed. “Even if I was, Greg loves me.” She poked his sticky, ice cream covered nose. “Don’t you?”

“Yes!” Greg poked her nose back. “Wirt, can we stay forever?”

“I’m pretty sure Mom and Jonathan would miss us if we stayed forever, but we can definitely see them again tomorrow,” Wirt told him.

“Good enough,” Greg accepted, then shoveled another spoonful of half-melted ice cream into his mouth. “Can we all go on an adventure tomorrow?”

The twins exchanged looks, considering their schedules, and grinned in unison. “Yes.”

“We’re meeting for breakfast somewhere around nine or ten.”

“Nine! Right at nine. The sooner the better.”

“Yay! Wirt, you’ll have to wake up for it okay? Like Disneyland. You’ll have to wake up when I tell you to!” Greg bounced in his seat, brandishing his spoon at his brother.

“I’ll wake up, Greg. I promise. I won’t sleep in.”

“Is that a rock fact?” Greg demanded to know, hands on his hips.

“It’s a rock fact,” Wirt assured him, appeasing the younger brother for the time being.

“Hey!” All four looked up when Grunkle Stan bellowed. “We’re closed, so get your butts in gear! Dipper, broom. Mabel... break nothing.”

“Okay, okay. Can’t get five minutes,” Dipper muttered, and Mabel giggled.

“Do you guys need a ride to the hotel? It’s on the way for Soos. He can take you. Unless you want to stay around today a little longer?”

Wirt glanced to Greg who simply shrugged in response, the seven-year-old leaving it up to him to decide what to do next. As it should be, he was the older brother after all. “I think I’m just gonna call our mom. I mean, she and Jonathan said they’d be fine with picking us up, and then we’ll probably all grab dinner on our way back. So we can hang around a little bit while we wait, if that’s okay with you guys and your uncle,” he added hastily as he took out his flip phone to send a quick text to their mom. It was a little embarrassing how quickly she texted back, and with a smiley face.

“Perfect! Greg and I can finish our ice cream and then clean up to hide the evidence, while Dipper cleans the floor.”

He tugged her hair. “Thanks a lot, Mabel.”

Wirt chuckled a little, then confirmed the pick up with their mom and pocketed his phone. “I can help you with the floor if you’ve got an extra broom or need someone to hold the dustpan?”

“That’s okay. If Grunkle Stan actually sees you helping, he’ll give you more stuff to do. Just follow me around if you want.”

“Kids!”

“Coming, Grunkle Stan!” But he ruffled Greg’s hair first because he could. He was there, they both were, and so much of the guilt he’d carried around was easing. It was a wonderful weight not to have.

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited and it feels so good~
> 
> Hopefully this clears up the time craziness for you as well as it did for Dipper? Which is not at all, yay.
> 
> Also, just so the Palmer-Whelan vacation timeline is clear, they're basically on the west coast from June 18th to July 3rd. They spent the first week of their vacation in California, so this chapter occurred a week after chapters one and two, more or less. 
> 
> Anyway, hooray for being reunited! Now we'll get to see what sort of adventures Gravity Falls has in store! Plus, awkward teen romance, which is always a delight.


	4. Chapter 4

The twins arrived at the diner first. Whether it was because Wirt had slept in or they were just fast was debatable, as it wasn’t yet nine when they arrived. They slipped into their normal booth near the back, sitting on opposite sides so each could see out the window. They’d both slept in the attic the night before, each terrified that they hadn’t really been there and that no one would be meeting them in the diner that morning.

And Mabel had very desperately needed his shoulder because Greg still had the sticker book she’d given him.

Both were antsy as they waited, staring out the window as the small town woke up around them. Lazy Susan wandered up, pen and notepad in hand. “Hiya, kids!”

“Hi, Lazy Susan!” Mabel greeted and Dipper grunted, nose against the glass. “We’re going to get our usual, but we’re waiting on a couple people, so can we get menus?”

“You got it! I’ll be right back.”

Mabel kicked her twin under the table, then nudged over a bottle of syrup. “You ready?”

“Mabel-”

“Come _on_ , Dipper! A watched boil never pops!”

“Ew.”

She ignored him. “Syrup race! Syrup race! Syrup race!”

“Okay, okay. One-”

“Two-”

“Three!” they chimed in unison and upturned the bottles. It was an old, ridiculous game, each determined to get the first drop of syrup from their respective bottles. And it was just distracting enough that they entirely missed the brothers walking in.

Wirt and Greg were silent as they walked up to the table, after having spent a few moments fidgeting nervously up front - on Wirt’s part, really - until they were given the go-ahead by Lazy Susan to sit wherever they’d like. Which was obvious, Greg told him, since there was no one else in the whole diner. That wasn’t entirely true, there were a couple others, but more than enough seats that they didn’t have to wait.

Hand in hand, and frog tucked under one arm in Greg’s case, they glanced at each other before returning to stare at the precariously dripping maple syrup bottles. They quickly derived the point of the game, Greg grinning broadly while Wirt shook his head to dissuade him. No they were never doing that. Never.

Waiting until one of the twins had won so as not to break their focus, Greg jumped into the booth to sit beside Mabel and declared, “Best two out of three!”

Even though Mabel was choking on the syrup that had gone right down her throat, she managed a laugh. “How about it, Dipper?”

“No way! You always win! How do you always win?” He recapped the bottle, glaring at her, and she laughed again.

“Your genes must be defective.”

“We have the same genes!”

“Defective! Defective!” She slumped back when he flicked her forehead, then grinned down at Greg. “Good morning!”

“Good morning!” Greg replied while Wirt slid across from him to sit beside Dipper. “We would’ve been here sooner, but Wirt decided to become one with the bed this morning and then he wouldn’t stop sitting on me after I jumped on his face too many times.”

“You’re a rude person who wakes people up rudely, Greg,” Wirt sighed, rubbing his temples. “If you woke people up nicely, then they wouldn’t have to sit on you.”

“You’re just a terrible morning person,” Greg reasoned. “You need more sugar before bed.”

“Here, kids! Here’s your menus.” Lazy Susan dropped down two. “Pancakes and waffles for you two?”

“Yes!” Mabel cheered. “Halvsies?”

Dipper bumped his fist to hers when it was offered. “Always.”

“Wirt! Wirt! I want waffles!” Greg waved his menu in his brother’s face, despite him already having one.

“Okay, okay. You can have waffles,” Wirt replied, delicately pushing the menu back into Greg’s space. “Do you want anything to drink? And maybe you should have a protein, too. Like eggs or something.”

“Mm…” Greg tapped his chin thoughtfully as he hummed. “Apple juice. But no eggs. I just want waffles. And syrup.”

“Of course you do.” Wirt quickly skimmed the menu, though had already decided to order a side of scrambled eggs to share with Greg and combat some of the sugar rush he’d surely experience. “Okay, so he’ll have waffles and apple juice. And um… I’ll have French toast and scrambled eggs, please.”

“Please,” Greg mimicked, sitting primly in his seat with his hands clasped in front of him. “And do you have tea? Wirt wakes up better when he has tea. He’s not so cranky.”

“Hey.” Wirt pouted, not pleased with all of the attacks on his not being a morning a person. Even if this one was true. A little.

“Sure thing. Two orders of waffles, pancakes, french toast and eggs, tea, apple juice.”

“Apple juice for me too,” Mabel decided.

“I’m good. Thanks, Lazy Susan.”

When she wandered off, Dipper withdrew one of his journals. “Okay, so Mabel and I were trying to come up with the least terrifying things we could take you guys to see, and-”

“Wait, Dipper! What did your parents say? Are you staying longer? Please say you’re staying longer!”

“Oh.” Wirt perked up, sitting a little straighter as he smiled. “They said it was fine if we wanted to stay another day. I mean, they’re still going to Ashland tomorrow, but then they’ll drive back here to the motel. Also they uh… they want to meet you guys at some point today. You know, protective parents and all.”

“Aww,” Mabel cooed, then poked her own cheeks and beamed at her twin. “He smiles more than I remember.”

“Things are a little different here than they were last time we saw them, Mabel.” But he glanced at Wirt and shrugged. He did smile more, and he seemed more like a brother to Greg than he had before. A walk through a valley of death would probably do that to you.

“Anyway, so I was thinking-”

“Pines!”

“Is there literally no place in town that I can get five minutes?”

“Well, you are a town hero.” She leaned forward, poking her twin’s face. “Whomp, whomp.”

“Mabel!”

“A-ha! I knew I recognized that dumb golf cart out front.” The teen who sauntered up to their table was flanked by two girls who acted more like physical barriers than actual friends. The blonde snapped her fingers. “Girls, two steps back. You’re crowding me.” Both immediately did as they were asked.

“Hi, Pacifica!” Mabel greeted. “When’d you get home from boarding school?”

“Yesterday or whatever. Doesn’t matter. I got the flier in the mail and decided to come out into the world to confirm. Saturday at six?”

“Yep! And after last year’s little problem, drinks are free!” The fine Grunkle Stan had incurred for letting kids get dehydrated had seen to that.

“I’m still bringing my own, but okay. I’ll be there at seven to give the other losers time to show up so the town can watch me beat you for the party crown, Mabel.”

“Nope! This year that crown’s mine!”

She laughed. “Sure. Whatever. We’ll see about that.” But she was smiling as she glanced from twin to twin. Then she realized the other two occupants at the table, most specifically Wirt. “No. Freaking. Way. Do you already have a boyfriend?” she demanded, but wasn’t, surprisingly, looking at Mabel.

Dipper snorted. “No. The choices at Gravity Falls aren’t exactly stellar ones.”

“You guys just need to lower your standards. Boys are a treasure!”

Dipper and Pacifica both fixed Mabel with a bland stare. “Let’s see,” Dipper began. “Gnomes in a suit, guy who made out with his own puppets, merman who married a manatee-”

“Okay,” Mabel laughed nervously, waving at her brother. “I get it. Your standards are just fine.”

“Approval from Mabel? Highest honor,” the blonde teased, cocking out a hip and placing her hand on it. “No, but seriously, Dipper.”

“Seriously, Pacifica, he’s just a friend. They’re visiting from Massachusetts. No boyfriend right now.”

“Okay, cool. Nice to meet you guys, I guess.” Even though one was in elementary school and the other was glancing at Dipper as if he’d never seen him before. “See you losers Saturday at seven. Girls, to the limo.” She snapped her fingers again, and the two followers and she vacated the diner.

Lazy Susan popped up, handing them their drinks. “Pacifica Northwest in my diner! You sure do rub elbows with the right people, kids.”

Mabel dunked a straw into her juice, smiling around it, and Dipper leaned back in the booth. “I guess. Thanks, Lazy Susan.”

“Sure thing. Food’ll be out soon,” she assured them and walked off.

“So Saturday! Tomorrow! You'll still be here, and it's our summer kick-off. You have to come,” Mabel insisted.

“Uh… kick-off? I- I dunno. I’m not… I’m not really a party kind of person?” Wirt tugged at the collar of his shirt, simultaneously trying to process just how - and _why_ \- he’d been mistaken for Dipper’s boyfriend. “I probably wouldn’t be much fun to have around.”

“Aw, Wirt. You’re fun,” Greg assured him, taking time from blowing bubbles in his apple juice to look at him. “And I want to go to the kicking party. Do we get to give people the ol’ kickeroo?”

He swung his leg out under the table and clipped Wirt’s knee. “ _Ow_.” Narrowing his eyes, the older brother rubbed the bonked kneecap while Greg smiled innocently. “You’re not kicking anyone.”

“No, man, come on. I have to work the front table half the night anyway, so you can hang out with me.”

“And Greg can help me win the party crown for sure.” Mabel ruffled his hair, smiling. “Are you a party guy, Greg?”

“I always get the most candy whenever there’s a piñata, so I think so,” Greg replied, chest puffed out in pride.

Wirt snorted a little at that, but the way his shoulders stayed hunched and the way his hands took to turning his tea in a continuous circle revealed it hadn’t done much to convince him. “I- I dunno.”

“Oh, don’t be shy, Wirt! Dipper and I’ll make sure you have plenty of fun!”

Dipper bumped his shoulder to Wirt’s. “You don’t have to stay the whole time, man, and it’s only one part of the house. You could use my room or whatever if you needed a break.”

“Yeah! Dipper hasn’t stayed through the whole party ever, and he’s one of the hosts!” Mabel shook her head, giggling when Jason Funderburker croaked.

“Hey, y’know, we could just not talk about what I do.”

“We can talk about what I do!” Greg volunteered, raising his hand.

Ignoring him for the time being, Wirt swallowed thickly and felt his pulse jump a bit at the casual contact. Not to mention the offer of his bedroom - which was completely innocent, it wasn’t the first time he’d used someone’s room to duck away from too much socializing stimulation or whatever. It meant nothing. Just because Dipper was apparently the kind of guy who could have boyfriends, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t change anything.

But it really… it really highlighted how much different twelve or thirteen was from fifteen almost sixteen. Of course he knew, he’d been a pre-teen himself once, but his memory of himself then and who he was now weren’t nearly as close as his memories of the twins. Even if he only knew them for a few hours, meeting someone while travelling through the afterlife certainly makes an impact.

Where was he even going with this? Oh right. Dipper liking boys and hanging out with him at a party. Oh boy. How still the ever-shifting world may seem, but for the blink of an eye all could change in an instant. New cells born. New sounds vibrate through the air. New drops of water filling lakes and streams after evaporating into the sun, returning to the earth anew.

The people who met in The Unknown were not the same people sitting around this table at this diner.

“I’ll think about it.” Wirt decided, glancing at Dipper with a tentative smile. “I mean, it could be fun.”

“Yes!” Mabel cheered, taking it for a complete assent. “Party time, Greg!”

“‘Maybe’ and ‘yes’ are two different words, Mabel.”

“What? What was that? No one’s listening to you.” She stuck her tongue out at her twin, shimmying happily in her seat. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

“Jason Funderburker can come to the party, too, right?” Greg held up the frog who croaked quietly at being brought into the conversation. “He loves party hats.”

“Yes! And if he gets nervous at the party, he can play with Waddles in my room.” Which, of course, meant that if Greg got overwhelmed or nervous, she’d whisk him away in a heartbeat. Crown or no crown.

“Okay, okay. That’s tomorrow. Today-” Dipper tried, but ended up dropping his head onto the table.

“Pine child!”

He lifted a hand, but didn’t bother lifting his head as a mammoth of a man appeared at their table. “Hi, Manly Dan.”

“There’s a _creature_ at my house.”

Dipper sighed. “It’s probably another woodpecker. Nothing to-”

“Woodpeckers do not turn into men and run away when I threaten to skin them alive!”

He finally lifted his head, eyes narrowed a fraction. “What?”

“He was a fox, and then he wasn’t.” He jabbed his finger into Dipper’s face, the teenager running his tongue along his teeth. That wasn’t right at all. Werefoxes didn’t show up this early in the season, and they definitely didn’t venture into town. Not that anyone really considered the Corduroy house to be part of town, on the fringe of the woods.

“Okay. I’ll check it out after breakfast.”

“Eat fast,” Manly Dan warned and received a lazy salute in return.

“Dipper, you’ve got your thinking face on.”

He mumbled something, rubbing his brow, and stared at nothing as he thought through all the possible reasons for a change in pattern. Coming up empty was frustrating, so he shook his head. “We’ll see when we get to the Corduroy house. It’s probably not even there anymore if he scared it off.”

“Do you think it’s a ghost?” Greg asked.

“Greg, he just said it was a fox.” Wirt shook his head, carefully moving his tea back in front of him from where that… Manly Dan made it wobble away. “That… turned into a person, apparently.”

“It could be a ghost fox! I bet a ghost fox could do whatever it wants.”

“Werefox. Like werewolves, but foxes.” Dipper frowned at the journal he’d brought with him, closing it with a sigh and returning it to his vest pocket. “We’ll have to stop at the Mystery Shack. I’ve got the wrong journal for weres.”

“After we look for clues, we can go meet your parents,” Mabel suggested, propping her chin in her hands, elbows on the table. “What are they doing today?”

“They’re checking out some of the historic sites. They’re actually planning on going to the Mystery Shack later because Jonathan’s sort of into weird, paranormal things. Not like normal paranormal things, but stuff that’s pretty much a touristy gimmick. He thinks they’re hilarious,” Wirt replied. “Are were… animals, you know, safe for uh… civilian-types to be around? Like Greg?”

“And you,” Greg giggled, ducking under the table when Wirt glanced his way.

“Yeah. I mean, most of them are. Some of them.” Dipper shrugged, his grin a little crooked. “Werefoxes aren’t a big deal. Bears and wolves and most cats? They’re the problem, but the second journal has all the alchemic solutions to protect against them.

“Basically, we’re just going to sprinkle some stuff I keep readymade around their house and look around. It’s pretty early in the season for werefoxes to be running around, and I need to find out why.”

“Are you gonna record it for your show?” Greg asked, popping back up so he could steal the little dish that held the sugar packets and Sweet and Low from Wirt so he could stack them in a tower. Every time Wirt took one from Greg’s tower for his tea, he wordlessly replaced it with a new packet until his older brother gave up.

“Probably not. If I recorded everything Mabel and I did here, I wouldn’t be able to move without a camera in my hand.”

“Hey, kids, breakfast time!” Lazy Susan unloaded plates from a platter, setting down stacks of food. “And this one’s on the house since you were nice enough to scare off those little men for me the other day.” She scoffed, the plate of waffles she set in front of Greg higher than his head. “Pie thieves.”

“No problem, Lazy Susan. Let me know if they come back.” Dipper plucked up a knife, he and Mabel slicing and switching half their food in synchronized, practiced motions.

“You know I will.”

“This is the best day of my life,” Greg sighed happily, eyeing his stack of waffles with pure joy and satisfaction with his young life.

“You’ve said that pretty much every day of our vacation,” Wirt reminded him, separating a small section of his eggs to spoon onto Greg’s plate. He made room, somehow. “Eat those first, then your waffles, soldier.”

Simply tacking on the one word was enough to get Greg to play along. This time. “Yes sir, Captain Wirt!” He stabbed his fork into the yellow fluff, then shoveled it into his mouth. “And I say that every day because every day is the new best day of my life!”

Unable to keep from smiling at that, Wirt shook his head and started cutting into his own food. “So, are you like… the town exterminator of all things magical and monstrous?” he asked Dipper. “On top of being an internet celebrity?”

“Yeah, kind of. I don’t really exterminate anything, though, just manage it. It’s what we’ve been doing since we were twelve. Just after we defeated the Blind Eye Society, people were actually able to keep their memories and they started actually noticing all the stuff we were doing.”

Mabel smacked her syrup bottle, drowning her waffle/pancake plate in the sugary goodness. “And when people started noticing, they started asking Dipper for help and he just keeps saying yes.”

He shrugged, taking the syrup only after he’d cut up the food on his plate. “We just help people. It’s not a big deal.”

“What do they do around here for the rest of the year though?” Wirt raised an eyebrow, taking the syrup when Dipper was done. “I mean, you’re only here in the summer, and I’m sure the supernatural doesn’t hibernate the rest of the year, right?”

“Some of it does. For the rest, Grunkle Stan’s here and he knows the journals almost as well as I do.” Dipper glanced down, sucking syrup off his thumb as he thought. “He just charges a lot more than me.”

Wirt nearly dropped the syrup in his haste to look away. “O-oh. Right. That makes sense.”

Mabel looked from Wirt to Dipper and back again, smile and eyes both growing wide with delighted excitement. But, rather than notice Wirt’s reaction, Dipper pulled out his own journal, not one of the six-fingered hand ones, and jotted a note to himself. Ugh! Boys, why?

Wirt didn’t notice her excitement, trying too hard to focus on drowning his French toast in syrup. He passed the bottle to Greg when he was done and was glad to see that his eggs were completely eaten already and safe from becoming as syrup coated as the rest of his meal. Which, after a second glance, he realized was far too big for him to successfully eat without making a complete mess. Grabbing his knife again, he pushed aside his food and started cutting Greg’s waffles into bite-sized pieces while his little brother amused himself with drawing squiggles all over the plate - and Wirt’s hands by default - with the syrup bottle.

“Is that really necessary?” he mumbled, trying to avoid it as best as possible.

“Yes,” Greg replied simply enough. “Can you spread the butter, too? You do it better.”

“It would’ve been easier to spread the butter if you waited to pour the syrup.”

“I believe in you, Wirt! You can do anything if you set your mind to it!” he cheered on, ignoring his brother’s logic in favor of feeding Jason Funberburker a piece of waffle.

Mabel continued to glance between the teen boys, a little more subtle as she sulked over Dipper’s lack of a reaction, but then Dipper actually looked over, watching the brothers, and Mabel squirmed in her seat at the slow smile that spread over his face. “You’re a lot better at the whole sibling thing than I remember.”

Greg looked up at Dipper, then over at Wirt who’d paused in his cutting to clear his throat, his cheeks pink and lips twisted in that awkward sort of way whenever he got embarrassed. “Well, uh… I wanted to be better- want to, still. I was pretty terrible before.”

Puffing up his cheeks with a displeased furrow to his brow, Greg protested, “No you weren’t-”

“Yes. I was.” Wirt wouldn’t look up from the plate as he finished cutting up the waffle, then slid the plate back to Greg. “I’m trying to fix that though.”

“You’re not doing a bad job.” Dipper waited for him to be done before bumping their shoulders together again, and Mabel literally squeaked.

Dipper glanced at her. “What?”

“Nothing!” she sing-songed, smile too bright.

Dipper’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever it is, no.”

She laughed, completely unable to help herself. Her romantic heart was fluttering wildly, but this had to be treated with care. It was her brother and the brother of her tiniest best friend. And they were both dumb, clearly, so it was going to take some maneuvering. And maybe, just maybe, a partner in crime.

Her grin was nothing but devilish as she leaned down and dropped a kiss to the top of Greg’s head. “Don’t worry, Dipper. I’m just happy.”

“I’m happy, too,” Greg chimed in as he nestled against Mabel’s side. “Aren’t you happy, Dipper?”

He couldn’t fight back the grin. “I don’t know. Is Wirt?”

“Wirt!” Greg pointed at his older brother with the sternest expression he could muster. “Are you happy?”

Mouth full of French toast, Wirt jumped a little at being called out, then choked on a combination of his breakfast and a laugh as he patted his chest. “Yeah,” he breathed when he managed to swallow it down, glancing between the three of them. “Yeah. I’m happy.”

“Good. Dipper!” Greg pointed back at him. “Do you know now?”

“I can pretty honestly say that this is the happiest I’ve been in a while.”

Mabel sobered a little, the twins sharing a brief look before she reached out and squeezed his hand. “Oh! You guys have to meet Candy and Grenda at some point too. They’re just the best, and they’ll love you, Greg. You too, Wirt. Oh! You’ll see them at the party tomorrow!”

“Oh, um. Cool. I mean, _if_ we go-”

Though it was really fighting a losing battle, wasn’t it? Wirt reflected as he glanced between Mabel and Greg. There was no way they would sit back and let him think about any other options aside from attending the party. Glancing sideways at Dipper, he supposed, if what he said about hanging out at the front table for most of the night was true, then it wouldn’t be so bad to go, right? Dipper was still - or at least still seemed like - a reasonable guy.

“Yeah… we’ll- we’ll see them at the party tomorrow, I guess.”

There were two instantaneous, identical grins from either side of the table, though Dipper’s faded into a smaller smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Cool.”

“You should come early while we’re still setting up. Then you’ll know where all the hideouts are! Dipper can show you!”

“Oh my god.”

“I want to see the hiding places! Then we can all play hide-and-seek!” Greg lit up, waving his hands in the air. “Can we go early, Wirt? I bet there’s ghosts in the hiding places, too!”

“Sure. As long as we won’t be in the way of you guys setting up, or anything,” he added.

“We manage to get in each other’s way just fine.”

Mabel laughed and her excited gushing around mouthfuls of food managed to get them through breakfast.

Dipper stepped out of the diner first, holding the door open out of habit. “So we brought the Mystery Cart since we weren’t sure if you guys were getting dropped off or walking over, and it’s faster than either of those.”

“A golf cart?” Wirt blinked, tilting his head a little when he caught sight of it. “That’s an interesting acquisition for a mystery shack.”

“I call driver’s seat!” Greg announced as he started to run for the cart, but, as if sensing that this would be the case, Wirt was able to nab him around the middle before he got too far. “Aw, beans.”

Mabel extracted Greg from his brother, giggling. “The best seat is the backseat when on the Mystery Cart,” she informed him. “Now let’s buckle up because this baby is fast!”

“Soos modified it,” Dipper explained, retrieving the key from his pocket. “We’ll be at the shack in no time.”

Wirt settled in the passenger seat after giving the cart a quick once-over. “Modified it how, exactly? And when you say fast, you mean fast for a golf cart, right?”

“Not exactly?” he replied and the engine sounded nothing like a golf cart when Dipper turned the key. “More like it’s technically illegal to drive this thing without a little more than a driver’s permit kind of fast.” He shrugged, backed out, and gunned it.

Mabel threw her hands in the air. “Woo!” she squealed, taking Greg’s hand and laughing as her brother navigated through town. They’d gone faster to get to the diner, but Dipper was trying not to make Wirt hate him. He didn’t think putting his foot flat on the gas would help with that.

As it was Wirt was gripping one of the poles holding up the canopy as if his life depended on it. Thankfully he didn’t scream, he prided himself on that much at least, but he was well-aware that most of the color drained from his face as the town and trees rushed past them. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there’d been a door or something on the sides of it. Just one glance down and he could easily see the ground they sped along over.

Was it enough to make Wirt hate Dipper? No, of course not. But he did pat himself down when they came to a halt, making sure he was still in one piece and his internal organs were still behaving appropriately. All seemed fine enough, he deduced as he let out a long breath, then raised an eyebrow at the driver.

“Technically illegal, huh?”

“Technically, completely. Let’s not nitpick, Wirt. At least we made it.”

Mabel snorted out a laugh, unbuckling Greg and Jason Funderburker. “Wirt, can you ride a bike? We have an extra.”

“That depends. Has the bike been modified, too?” Wirt narrowed his eyes as he slid out of the golf cart, knees only wobbling slightly.

“No. You can use mine. I’ll grab the older one.” Dipper walked around the cart, smile apologetic. “Uh... I went slower than normal?”

“That’s… that’s not helping,” he replied, but he couldn’t help smiling back. “Well, thanks. You did have a small child in the backseat, so I appreciate you going slower than normal.”

“I think the small child had more fun than you did,” he pointed out, pushing the bill of his cap back and then looked passed Wirt to wave. “Hey, Soos!”

“Hey, dudes.” He saluted them with a screwdriver, other hand weighed down by a toolbox. “Soda machine’s on the fritz again if you want anything.”

“Cool.”

Mabel gasped suddenly at Greg, sprinting by. “What do you mean you’ve never had pitt cola?!”

“Never had pitt cola?” The handyman scratched his head, bewildered. “What else is there to drink?”

Dipper laughed, grabbing the door before it could slam shut behind his twin. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know.”

“I’ve never uh… I’ve never had pitt cola either?” Wirt rubbed the back of his neck as he followed Dipper, watching Greg and Jason Funderburker scurry past them both to catch up with Mabel. “Does it taste as weird as it sounds?”

“No, it’s actually pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Soos waved a hand. “Dudes, it’s the best soda out there.”

Dipper chuckled. “Pretty sure it’s just a midwestern thing, though. Or northwestern, I guess.”

“Oh, hey, Dipper, did you want to get in some catch later?”

“Yeah, I’m in, definitely! I’ve got to do a thing for Manly Dan first, though.”

“Oh, man.” Wendy looked up from her magazine, boots propped up on the cashier desk. “What’s dad got you doing now?”

“Werefox showed up at your house, and he chased it off.”

She lifted a brow. “This early in the season?”

“I know, right?!”

“Pitt cola!” Mabel appeared, arms loaded with cans of soda. “Wait at least ten minutes before opening any of these because I may have gotten a little excited! This has been a public service announcement.”

“Oops.” Greg’s sound of surprise came simultaneously with the crack of the soda can, followed immediately by an overwhelming amount of fizz.

Wirt slapped himself in the face. While his older brother shook his head in dismay, Greg debated between holding the can away from him to keep it from getting on his clothes or to keep it close to him so it wouldn’t get all over the floor. Both ended up a sticky mess regardless.

“I’m sorry, Mabel. I didn’t listen to the public service.”

She laughed, putting the remaining cans on the counter. “That’s okay, Greg! No one listens to public service announcements because of their low budgets and reliance on outdated scare tactics!”

“For the record, I’m not cleaning that,” Wendy announced.

“I’ll do it.” Dipper sighed, taking the journal from his pocket and tossing it to his sister. “Mabel, book two and the werefox alchemy.”

“You got it, bro-bro! Come on, Greg.” She hauled him up, settling him on her hip. Nevermind that she got her sweater wet and sticky; she could change easily. “Let’s go find you a towel.”

She skipped through the Employee Only door and Grunkle Stan’s shout was heard seconds later. “Why is that child wet?!”

Dipper shook his head, heading to the closet to get the mop and bucket.

“I’m sorry. Here, let me clean it up at least.” Wirt followed him, wringing his hands together and cringing as he hoped that whatever was in these pitt colas didn’t stain floors.

“Don’t worry about it. Trust me, it’s not even close to being the first time I’ve had to clean the floors from a kid. Actually, I used to have to clean up after Mabel.” He dumped cleaning solution into the mop bucket and kicked it out of the closet, shoving it with his foot until he could wring out the mop and flop it onto the floor.

“Hey, new kid, you and your brother coming to the party tomorrow? It’s gonna be sick.”

“Oh- uh, yeah. Yeah, we’re definitely coming.” Wirt nodded, folding his arms across his chest as he sidestepped out of Dipper’s way.

“I am the DJ,” Soos announced proudly, though his voice was mostly muffled inside the cooler.

Dipper shoved the mop back into the closet, not bothering to dump out the cleaner as it would likely be needed again soon, and stopped behind the counter. He grabbed a can, opening it a smidge to see if it would explode. When it didn’t fizz, he cracked it open the rest of the way and took a drink.

It was a weird kind of drink, but it had summer written all over it for him. With a smile, he nudged a can Wirt’s way. “Just give it a shot.”

“Hey!” Wendy laughed, punching Dipper’s shoulder. “Remember the first party Stan threw?”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, man, so me and Dipper were working the entrance-”

“Here we go.”

“And we both just ended up ditching completely.”

“Can we not-?”

Wendy threw him into a headlock, rubbing the top of his hat. “This little dweeb spent basically the whole night trying to flirt with me and failed epically.” She snorted when he sighed. “That was before I broke your heart and turned you gay.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Naw, man, that’s totally how this works.” She rubbed a little harder, and he could’ve easily pulled away from her, but started to laugh instead. “Admit it, loser!”

“Oh, Wendy, your boyish charms led me astray. You’re just so manly,” he teased and collapsed when she released him.

“Shut up!”

Wirt flushed darkly, averting his eyes on principle. He didn’t want to feel like he was intruding. Even if this was a story that the cashier, Wendy, volunteered to tell, somehow it seemed wrong to be hearing about Dipper’s… preferences from people other than Dipper himself. Not to mention the stupid way his pulse seemed to skyrocket every time it was mentioned. This was not the time to be reflecting on that.

Glancing back at the two of them, he blinked at the way Dipper seemed to be eyeing him. Nervous, Wirt fiddled with the tab for the soda can he’d nudged towards him. Why was he looking at him like that? He hadn’t said anything out loud right? He didn’t think he had. He kept messing with the tab before finally snapping it. Making it seem intentional he quickly brought it to his lips for a small sip. It wasn’t bad, he decided, avoiding direct eye contact with Dipper as he took another.

“Yo, Dipper, you okay?” Wendy asked.

He finished standing, brushing himself off. He hadn’t said anything in the diner, Dipper recalled, except his body language had gotten a bit stiffer when Pacifica had mistaken him for his boyfriend. So he’d thought, then, that it wasn’t going to be a big deal. Was it a big deal now that it had been said aloud? No misunderstandings, just facts.

“Yeah, I’m... Wirt, can you come here? For a second? Because, uh... Just come here,” he insisted and walked out front.

Bristling, Wirt fumbled with what to do with his soda can and ended up leaving it behind on the counter as he trailed after Dipper. The toe of his shoe caught on the doorframe as he hurried outside and he stumbled forward ever so gracefully, arms flailing a bit as he righted himself. Of course Dipper saw the whole thing. Of course he did. Wirt coughed once, then smiled sheepishly as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“What’s- what’s up?”

For a moment, Dipper forgot exactly why he was annoyed in the first place. Oh, no, he thought. Oh, no, he’s cute. He’s clumsy and cute and maybe possibly homophobic. Oh, man. Dipper tugged the bill of his hat down, stomach filling with stupid butterflies. No, no, no, do not have a crush on the straight guy. No, please, why? He’d been doing so well at avoiding this!

“I just... Is this, like, a problem for you? The whole-” He’d been out for a year and still fumbled when he had to say it to someone who didn’t know. “Me being gay. Is that a problem, or...?”

“No! What? No, of-”

Wirt’s hands were up and waving while his tongue tripped over the right words to say before his brain even properly processed just what was being asked of him. Dipper thought he had a problem with him? Oh jeez, that was the last thing he wanted. It was clear he’d made the other boy upset, and that made him upset just thinking about it. He needed to convince him that wasn’t the case, not by a long shot. He paused to take a breath, relaxed a little, then made sure to seriously catch Dipper’s gaze this time when he glanced up at him, thanks to all of his useless floundering no doubt.

“Of course not,” he tried again, voice firm. “It’s not a problem at all, trust me. I was just surprised. You know? Especially because I didn’t exactly hear it straight from you? I mean, it was other people saying it, and I wasn’t even sure if you wanted someone like me to know and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to talk to me about it if you didn’t want to and-”

Was this really getting anywhere? Wirt raked his fingers through his hair as he sighed heavily. Some poet he was, words really got away from him when he needed them most.

“And if I seem… I don’t know. A little weird about it, well, that’s just because… I’m- I’m not really sure if I’m… you know. Yet. I don’t know. I don’t like labels, so I’ve just kinda been ignoring it. Just trying to be myself. Whoever that is.” He tentatively reached out to place his hand on Dipper’s shoulder and squeezed. “But I swear, it’s not a problem. That’s a rock fact- oh, gosh.” He covered his eyes with the palm of his other hand. “Sorry. That just happened.”

That, Dipper hadn’t been expecting. He also hadn’t expected the touch to his shoulder to set fire to his cheeks, and was grateful Wirt embarrassed himself into covering his eyes. “No, I’ve been out, like, a year? I’m used to people just knowing. And- and someone like you? That’s- What does that even mean? You’re important to me. And to Mabel,” he added quickly.

“And if you’re... If you want to label it or not, whatever, man, that’s your business. If you want to talk about it, though, I’ve already gone through the whole figuring-it-out stage. So, uh, I’m...” He covered Wirt’s hand on his shoulder, keeping his gaze trained on that rather than his face. “So if you want to talk, I’m here and stuff. There’s another rock fact.”

Wirt slowly lowered his hand as he blinked at Dipper curiously. His eyes followed the other boy’s gaze to their hands, then bounced back to the lingering redness spread across his face. It was kind of cute. And rock facts, man. Wirt ducked his head as his smile came unbidden, tempted to cover it with his hand, but left his free one hanging by his side.

“Thanks. I… I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, suddenly very conscious of the way Dipper’s hand felt over his, but he couldn’t tell if he wanted to move it or let it stay. “So, uh… we good? I’m sorry I made you think I wasn’t okay with it.”

“Oh! Yeah! Sorry. I just-” Dipper solved the problem for them both, lifting both hands and taking a step back. “I don’t know. I can usually just recognize when someone’s not on board, but if you’re dealing with your own... stuff, then that makes sense? Sorry.”

“Guys! Why’re you out here?” Mabel flung open the door, narrowly missing Wirt. Greg was on her shoulders, his soaking wet shirt replaced by a purple sweater that was just a little too long in the sleeves for him. But it had a frog dead center and the words, “toad-aly awesome” stitched above it, so there could be no other choice from Mabel’s old collection.

“Wendy wants us to get her a new magazine since we’re heading to her house. Did you get the bikes yet?”

Distracted from examining his hand - so apparently he’d wanted it to stay, interesting - Wirt clasped both behind his back as he took a step away from Mabel. Not that he was in the direct path of anymore wayward, flying doors, but it still couldn’t hurt to widen his personal bubble barrier. Though if Mabel was anything like Greg, and she was he already knew that, then it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway.

“Oh. No. We sort of-? Wendy was telling us a story and then we came out here and had to talk and- and we’ll go get the bikes now. Nice sweater, Greg,” he managed before hurrying off the porch.

“Thanks!” Greg waved his arms so the sleeves fluttered.

Mabel skipped after them, and soon right passed, a bit disappointed in herself as she realized she’d interrupted something important. How was she supposed to get them together if she got in the way? The first at the shed, she wheeled out her purple bike and settled Greg in the basket between the handlebars. It had to be big enough to fit Waddles, so it was plenty of room for the boy.

Dipper gestured to a blue bike for Wirt, shoving various boxes out of his way in the small shed to get to an older bike. He tugged a bit at the rusted chain, but deemed it safe enough. He and Soos could clean it that afternoon if it seemed like an issue. “Mabel, did you get-”

“Yup!” She passed over the journal and a bottle of what looked like blue glitter. Both were tucked into his pockets.

“Thanks. So the Corduroy place is kind of on the other end of town, but Mabel and I can point out some of the places you guys should probably know how to get to while you’re here on the way. Just stick close to us, especially while we’re here and so close to the gnome forest.”

“Ick.”

“Okay.” Wirt swung one leg over and straddled the bike, testing it and deemed it comfortable enough. “Don’t worry, we don’t plan on wandering off. Right, Greg?”

“Well, I can’t really get out of here by myself,” he deduced, glancing around the basket for possible, accidental escape routes. “I’m trapped!”

Wirt grinned. “Maybe I need to get one of those then.”

Greg stopped waving his arms and smiled back at him. “If you want. It’s pretty comfy.”

It was then that the older brother noticed the distinct lack of frog on his person. “Hey, where’s Jason Funderburker?”

“In Mabel’s room with Waddles. He’s missed him, so they’re bonding,” Greg explained.

“Grunkle Stan promised not to let either of them outside, and Wendy promised to make sure he keeps that promise this time. So they’ll be just fine.”

“Did Soos promise to watch Wendy?”

“Yep!”

Dipper nodded, doing a few quick circles to make sure the old bike would hold. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The trip wasn’t a long one, considering that their destination was on the other side of town, but Gravity Falls wasn’t known for its size by any means. They only passed one car, but there were quite a few pedestrians out and about. Not a single one failed to greet the Pines twins, at least one or both returning every wave.

At the edge of the wooded path that led to the Corduroy home, Dipper pulled up short. “Do me a favor. Keep an eye out for anything that seems strange, any people or anything. No one should be over here.”

“Oh. Okay, sure.” Wirt eyed the woods warily. While they had been surrounded by trees the entire time, they’d had yet to venture into them, so to speak. Wirt’s grip on the handlebars tightened as they followed the rather isolated path. “So no fellow, woodsy neighbors out here then?”

“No. The Corduroy’s are lumberjacks, so Manly Dan likes to stay as close to the hunt or whatever as possible.”

“He’s kind of crazy,” Mabel whispered conspiratorially. “How you doing, Greg? Still nice and stuck?”

Greg gave her a thumbs up. “Stuck like a duck,” he assured her with a smile, but then his attention quickly gravitated away from her and over to the bushes and trees. “What was that?”

Mabel grasped the breaks, feet shooting from the pedals to dig into the ground, trusting Greg’s ears as well as her own instincts. But the werefox was fast, the creature so much larger than a normal fox when it leapt out from its hiding spot. Mabel snatched Greg from the basket, but couldn’t get far enough fast enough, so tucked him close.

“Mabel!” Dipper shouted, the stop of his bike less than graceful, the teen almost falling with it, but he was tackling the beast just in time to keep its teeth from sinking into his sister’s back.

They rolled, Dipper yelping when his hand was nearly taken off at the wrist by a snapping jaw. He gaped at the werefox, digging through his pocket as he held it’s maw away. This was not normal. They could be aggressive sometimes, yes, but this desperate hunger wasn’t normal.

And the bottle of repellent wasn’t in his pocket. “Mabel!” he shouted again, a hard punch doing little to deter the monster.

The bottle rolled a bit on the forest floor, Wirt scrambling off his bike to snatch it up. “How does it work?” he asked frantically, fumbling with it until it was rightside up.

Holding it out, aimed at the rabid werefox, he squeezed the trigger so whatever was inside the bottle sprayed the creature. He squeezed it again, just to be safe when the fox recoiled and was successfully pushed away. With Dipper no longer under attack, he hurried over and handed him the bottle, glancing between him and Mabel.

“Greg? You okay?” he called just to be sure.

“Yeah.” Came the muffled response, the youngest of their mystery squad still tucked up in Mabel’s arms. “What was it?”

Still on the ground, Dipper panted and then jabbed a finger skyward. “That was _not_ normal!”

He squeaked, just a little, when the werefox growled at him and rolled away quickly. It got to its paws shakily, patchy fur melting away as it ran back into the forest. Dipper clutched at his chest.

Only then did Mabel actually let Greg look up, lessening her grip on him. “We definitely have to spray around Wendy’s house.”

“And the path for her brothers,” Dipper agreed, looking around for his hat.

Wirt picked it up and dusted it off before offering it to him, along with a hand to help him up. “So werefoxes don’t usually pop out of the woods to attack innocent victims?”

“No! Well, not this early,” he amended, taking the hand before his hat. He scrubbed his hands through his hair before covering it with the cap, then dug out a pen and his personal journal. He jotted down the encounter, glanced at his watch for the time. “And never with that much... I don’t know. The thing looked terrified and way too...”

He snapped his book shut, tucking it away with his pen. “The werehares had thin pelts too,” he realized.

“Can we get to Wendy’s before you play connect the dots?” Mabel suggested, righting her bicycle one-handed to avoid setting Greg down.

“I thought we were playing Mystery Adventure.” Greg glanced up at her with a perplexed expression.

“It’s a figure of speech, Greg,” Wirt informed him, going over to the two of them so he could ruffle his hair.

He grinned when his little brother batted his hand away, the ball of tension that manifested in his chest at the sight of some rabid animal going straight for him and Mabel easing at the contact. Meeting her gaze, he made sure to convey his gratitude. She protected him without a second thought.

“Thanks,” he told her.

“I love him,” she replied with a shrug and swung a leg over her bike. Greg was returned to the basket. “Let’s go, boys! No more unscheduled stops!”

“Coming.” But Dipper’s gaze was on the woods around them and the secrets they held, and had been holding, even longer than he’d been trying to unlock them.

Something was wrong, and he considered it his job to find the solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MYSTERY! INTRIGUE! STUFF! BOYS GETTING CRUSHES ON BOYS!
> 
> And you didn't think we'd let a summer in Gravity Falls go by without a mystery, did you~? Perish the thought!


	5. Chapter 5

Nearly an hour later, the Corduroy home successfully protected from any further werefox activity and Dipper quietly planning to send Wendy home with further protections, the twins and half-brothers pedaled back up the Mystery Shack. In the parking lot were two vehicles - a new-looking rental and a tour bus. Dipper gulped.

Mabel laughed. “Don’t worry! Maybe Grunkle Stan already has them on the tour! We can sneak by.”

“Why would you need to sneak by?” Wirt asked, raising an eyebrow. “Does he get you guys involved with the tour or something?”

“Dipper is the tour! Well, part of it.” Mabel swung off her bike, removing Greg from the basket before pushing it into the shed. “He’s a celebrity!”

“No, I’m not.”

“Tell that to your three million subscribers!” she sing-songed, and only snorted when he shoved the old bicycle at her.

“You do have a lot of subscribers,” Wirt pointed out with a small smile, wheeling the blue bike in to set it carefully by Mabel’s, though his brow quickly furrowed. “Wait, your uncle uses you as part of the tour? Does he, like, pay you or anything?”

“It’s okay if it’s in candy,” Greg piped up. “I get paid in candy whenever I help Old Lady Daniels with her yardwork.”

The twins exchanged looks, Mabel biting her lip as absolute mirth overtook her. When Dipper rolled his eyes, she lost it. “Grunkle Stan paying us! _Us_!” It was easily the funniest thing she’d heard that day, possibly that week.

Dipper herded her out of the shed, closing it behind him. “Let’s go in through the family entrance and skip the gift shop.”

Flustered, Wirt looked to Greg who simply shrugged in response. “I guess money is funny?” he offered.

“Well, I mean, he should at least compensate you in some way, right? If he’s using you as a main attraction,” Wirt pressed as he and Greg followed the twins to the entrance to the house, the younger brother skipping ahead to latch onto Mabel’s hand.

“Probably, but it’s Grunkle Stan. It’ll never happen. He’s always used us in the tour when he needed something extra.”

“He’s always used Dipper,” Mabel clarified, giving Greg’s hand a squeeze. “Remember the wolf boy costume?”

Dipper shuddered visibly.

“Oh my gosh. What was the wolf boy costume? Nevermind, I don’t think I want to know.” Wirt waved his hands in front of him to negate his question.

“He had a tail and ears and-”

“And we’ll stop talking about that now. Right now. The conversation is over.”

“It’s probably better than the lamby-lamby- wah!” She laughed when Dipper tackled her, the twins rolling right inside when the door was swung open.

Soos watched them for a minute, chuckling. “Hey, dudes. Mr. Pines was looking for you.”

“Kind of busy,” Dipper replied, getting his giggling twin in a headlock.

“Yeah!” Greg chimed in, beaming up at Soos. “Mabel was about to tell us about a lamby-lamby something! Then Dipper jumped on her.”

“Because I don’t think Dipper wants us to know about the lamby-lamby something,” Wirt told him, a little half-smile pulling at his lips. “Why, Dipper? What’s so bad about lambs?”

Blood rushed to his face, coloring his cheeks so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t faint. “ _Nothing_! It’s nothing! Nothing was ever-” He rubbed his knuckles against Mabel’s head, mortified when she only laughed harder. “Do you see what you did?!”

“I hear the sound of mockery! A-ha!” Grunkle Stan appeared, grabbed the collar of Dipper’s vest. “Let’s go, kiddo! We’ve got customers!”

“Oh, man.”

“And what happened to your shirt?”

He glanced down, grimacing at the tears. Claws hadn’t broken skin if he was just now noticing. “Werefox.”

“This early in the-? Never mind. It’ll look good for the tour.” Grunkle Stan half-dragged him back towards the gift shop, the teenager sighing over his fate.

Mabel ran her hands through her hair to straighten it from the noogie, tucking her hands on her hips. “Do you want to see it? Dipper’s the only real part of the tour, but it’s still kind of funny.”

“Yeah!” Greg cheered while Wirt flashed a genuinely interested smile as he nodded. “Is he gonna talk about more monster mystery adventures that you’ve been on? Is he gonna talk about ghosts?”

“He mostly just answers questions and rolls his eyes a lot. So if you want to hear him talk about ghosts, you can ask.”

“I’m gonna ask.” Greg clenched his fists, a determined expression set on his face as he looked into the distance.

Wirt chuckled and gave him a pat on the head. “Okay, Greg. You do that.”

As the three entered the gift shop, two of the patrons waved them over. Greg immediately ran over to them and was swept up into a super high hug by his dad. Wirt, keeping his much more sedate pace, waved back a little.

“That’s our parents,” he explained to Mabel, though Greg’s babbling at them made that clear enough he supposed. “I kinda told them that I met Dipper through a pen pal program through my school’s English class? I mean, I didn’t really know how else to explain how we knew you guys. Meeting in the afterlife didn’t really seem like the best route.”

She covered her mouth with both hands, eyes springing wide as she looked at him. For the first time, she seemed nervous about something. “Oh, no! You _lied_?”

“What?” Wirt’s eyes widened in return. “Was I not supposed to? I didn’t know what else to say! Mom asked why I wanted to go to Gravity Falls, and Greg kept talking about you two, and-and I couldn’t just say, ‘oh, during our near-death experience we met these twins when they were thirteen and now they’re not and-’ okay. No, it’ll be fine. You don’t even have to say anything about that. I’m sure they won’t even bring it up. Mom will say, ‘hi, it’s nice to finally meet you.’ Jonathan will say- I dunno. Something.”

“Right! I don’t need to say anything about it!” She laughed it off, waving a hand, but they were doomed. Why had Dipper being dragged away been funny? At least he knew how to hold a straight face while lieing.

She was almost sweating when they reached his parents, but Greg was reaching for her. Her nerves settled into a wide grin as she swept him up and tucked him on her shoulders. “Hi! I’m Mabel. Dipper’s my twin and he’s definitely pen pals with Wirt. Yep! Nothing suspicious about that at all!”

Wirt tried very, very hard not to smack himself in the face and somehow, magically succeeded. Luckily his mom and step-dad were used to his own weird ramblings. Jonathan simply laughed, nice and warm, while his mom smiled brightly, more pleased by the open affection she showed Greg than anything. Most likely, Wirt figured.

“Hi, Mabel. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she greeted, just as Wirt predicted. “Greg’s been telling us so much about you. He was really looking forward to getting a chance to play with you this trip.”

“Is it true that you have a pet pig?” Jonathan asked, grinning. “I love the idea of that. I bet pigs make great pets!”

“Yep!” She laughed, much more at ease with discussing things that were absolutely true. “His name is Waddles because, well, that’s what he does. He’s just as good a pet as Jason Funderburker. They’re upstairs in my room.”

“Excellent! Jason could use a good, pig friend,” Jonathan approved, then turned his attention to Wirt. “You having a good time, kiddo?”

“Yeah.” Wirt nodded quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it’s been fun so far.”

“Where is Dipper?” his mom inquired.

“Oh, uh. He’s part of the tour, apparently,” Wirt replied. “You’ll see him in a minute.”

Greg waved his arms over Mabel’s head. “I’m gonna ask him a question about ghosts, Mom!”

She smiled and poked his cheek. “Well, then we better get over there and hear all he has to say on such an important subject.”

“Yo, Mabel!” Wendy called, waving her magazine in the air when she looked over.

“Oh, right. I have to do something really quick.” She bounced a bit to make Greg laugh.  “Do you still have Wendy’s magazine, corporal?”

“Yes, sir, General Mabel!” Greg saluted, then reached inside the sweater to pull out the magazine. “I’ve got the goods!” he faux-whispered, handing it to her.

One of his too-long sleeves was caught by his mom’s hand as she examined it. “This isn’t what you left the motel in this morning, Gregory.” She gave him a knowing look. “Do I want to know what happened to your shirt?”

“It was an explosion,” he answered honestly. “It didn’t survive.”

Jonathan placed a hand over his heart. “A moment of silence for the cotton fibers lost in the battle against…?”

“Pitt cola,” Greg and Wirt replied in unison.

“Pitt cola,” he finished.

“Well, did you tell Mabel thank you for letting you wear one of her sweaters?” The deduction was easy enough for their mom to make considering the similarities in their articles of clothing.

“Yes. But I’ll say it again.” Greg leaned over to look Mabel in the eyes. “Thanks for letting me wear your frog sweater, Mabel.”

She brought him around to rub their cheeks together fondly. “You’re welcome! It’s an old one that doesn’t fit me anymore anyway. I make them,” she explained to the adults, all pride. “Now let’s get Wendy her magazine, corporal! We have an objective to complete!” She swung him back to her shoulders. “We’ll catch up with you on the tour, okay? You don’t want to miss it!”

“She’s great with Greg,” their mom marveled as the two of them bounded over to the cash register.

Wirt smiled as he watched them go. “Yeah, she is. They kinda adore each other.”

“I can see that,” she chuckled, then squeezed his shoulder lightly. “He’s behaving for you? And the two of you are really doing okay?”

He nodded and shrugged some. “Yeah. We are, actually. It’s been… it’s been better than I expected. I don’t even know why I was so nervous to begin with, honestly.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sparing a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the Mystery Shack gift shop. “Come on, I think the tour starts over here.”

Grunkle Stan gathered together the pack of tourists and quite happily led them through each and every “wonder” he’d set up or created. There was a deer with eight eyes - seven, he corrected when the super glue of one failed, and the eye fell to the floor and rolled away. Pictures were still taken of it, tourists largely oblivious as they always were to the falsity Stan Pines displayed.

Though there was a true world of mysteries just outside the walls of the Shack, here was safety. People, Stan had discovered, paid a lot more for the trick than they would for the real danger. So he saved his glimpse of real danger for the end of the tour.

“And here we have - the bored teenager!”

Dipper glowered at his uncle, perched on a stool. “Seriously?”

“Thankfully, the kid’s got some redeeming qualities. If you pick up a copy of our local _Gravity Falls Gossiper_ , you’ll probably see him fighting some sort of monster. Or you can check out his, uh, internet... thing.”

“YouTube channel,” Dipper supplied, lips twitching lightly. He glanced at one of the teens in the group, watching the girl lift to her toes as if to get a better look at him. “Seen them?”

“Yes! Oh my god! I didn’t think you were _real_ ,” she blurted, and Dipper laughed.

“Ta-da. I’m real, the things in the videos are real, and-”

He wanted to leave, wincing a bit when a flash went off from someone’s camera, but the same girl spoke up again. “Why do you hunt monsters?”

“I don’t! No, man, no.” He waved that away quickly. “That’s the last thing I do. I follow them. I study them. You don’t hunt a monster, you protect against them. And you don’t judge the more paranormal things right off the bat. More things in this forest are harmless than terrifying, and the terrifying things are easy to avoid if you know where to go.”

He started to call on Greg, the boy waiting with his arm waving in the air, perched on his twin’s shoulders, but she said, “So that’s why you do it? To show people how to avoid the stuff you get to see all the time?”

He bristled, spine straightening. “Get to? Look, it’s not a game. It’s not a privilege to see these things. It’s not a privilege to live here anymore than it’s a privilege to live anywhere else. You just live there and exist there, and that’s what the people of Gravity Falls do. It just so happens that there’s a more supernatural element here.

“The reason why I put up my videos is to show people how to avoid these creatures, yes, because some of them can be dangerous simply because they’re misunderstood. It’s the same thing as a rattlesnake. You don’t approach it if it’s rattling its tail and you wouldn’t go up to a werewolf during mating season.”

He shook his head. “But people don’t know the thing about werewolves. They don’t know they’re more dangerous around the spring and fall equinoxes than they are even during the full moon, so that’s what I do. I teach people things like that. I show the people in their normal lives in their normal towns that crazy things exist  the world. Unexplainable and unimaginable things exist, and they are amazing and incredible, but they can be understood. That way-”

He broke off, a scan of the crowd having him stopping on Wirt. The videos were for people like him, for people like Greg. “That way if you’re ever lost in The Unknown, you won’t go in blind. You won’t go in without the knowledge that things exist out there that are just... puzzles, waiting to be solved. Knowledge, especially about things like this, really is power. You won’t be lost if you have some knowledge beforehand.”

Dipper swallowed, dropping his gaze away from Wirt to rub the back of his neck. “That... That’s why I do it. What’s your question, Greg?”

“Have you ever talked to a ghost? And what are they like?” Greg finally lowered his hand after spending the better part of Dipper’s explanation holding it in wait, waiting for the right times to shoot up so he could be called on. “Oh, sorry. That’s two questions. You can just answer one, that’s okay.”

He looked up, grin just a little strained. “They’re good questions. I can answer them both. Yes, I’ve talked to a ghost. I’ve talked to a few of them, and they’re all different. Some of them are really mad and want something fixed. Some of them are around just to goof off. It all depends on a lot of things. I’ll tell you a story later if you really want to hear one.” His uncle tapped his watch and Dipper nodded. “I can get one more question in. Who’s up?”

The twisting of Wirt’s heartstrings lessened as he listened to Dipper’s reply for his brother, but the butterflies from that meaningful look lingered just a bit longer. So they were for them. The videos, helping people. Yeah, he’d started the videos before he and Mabel met them, but Wirt hadn’t missed the distinct shift in tone between the summer of 2012 and the one that followed. There was a new purpose in the videos that followed their time in The Unknown. There’d always been the desire to help people, Wirt remembered that trait in the twins they’d met, but he was pretty sure they’d not yet experienced the feeling of failing to help someone. Someones.

Essentially leaving them for dead.

Wirt would deny it front and back. It was not their fault, it was not their job, but he could see how after waiting an entire summer for two kids to make good on their promise and they never showed that the what ifs would root themselves firmly in their minds. In Dipper’s mind. He’d offered to stay. Whether or not Mabel did the same, Wirt didn’t know. He’d asked Greg what they talked about once, but his little brother didn’t answer him. He changed the subject, so Wirt didn’t ask again.

Well, even if it was two and a half years too late, Dipper had not failed to help them. If there were losses notched on their respective  belts, at least Wirt and Greg were not among them. Nodding firmly to himself, Wirt came back out of his reverie to find that the tourists around them were shuffling awkwardly, and those that weren’t were still taking pictures. He felt a nudge in his side.

A frown immediately creased his forehead as he shook his head at his mom while she mouthed at him to ‘ask something.’ He was terrible at thinking up questions on the spot. He was terrible at even volunteering to say anything at all in class, even when he knew the answer. He was not just going to start talking in front of a bunch of strange people - or worse, in front of people who knew Dipper and Mabel and would probably know of him for a while and be in occasional contact with him after this. His mom nodded encouragingly and he continued to shake his head, mouthing back, ‘no, no, no-’

“I think Wirt has a question!” Greg called out ever-so-helpfully and Wirt cringed visibly at the sound of his voice.

“No, I don’t, Greg,” he hissed under his breath, eyeing the boy on Mabel’s shoulders dangerously.

“Oh. Well, make one up!” Greg grinned as if it was the easiest thing in the world while his cheeks colored because in a perfect world it should’ve been.

“It’s cool, Greg. If no one has anything, I can just-”

Mabel giggled and nudged Wirt, interrupting her brother’s hasty escape attempt. “You’ve seen the videos. There’s not one thing about any of them you can think of?”

“Of course I can.” Wirt’s face grew even warmer, if that was possible.

He really could, he could think up a million questions about the videos he’d watched and rewatched. But not on the spot. On the spot, his mind blanked and he couldn’t recall a single video clip aside from- from…

That stupid tooth video from 2012.

Now that it was in his head, he couldn’t get it out. It just kept playing in his head, that bear puppet, the monster island head, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t actually ask a reasonable question about that particular video, but what came out of his mouth couldn’t be a reasonable question, could it? Oh no, because that would be too kind of his traitorous, traitorous brain.

“In the tooth video, was that your actual reaction while you were playing the sousaphone or-?” _Shut up, shut up, shut up._ Thankfully Wirt’s mouth listened better than his brother or his mom and he clamped it shut immediately.

“Oh yeah!” Greg laughed, saving him from complete humiliation just a tiny bit. “I liked that part!”

“Oh. Um.” It was Dipper’s turn to blush, averting his gaze. “Yeah, no, that was... That was all me. I went over to the lake to practice since, well, no one wants to hear me play, and just saw it. The only reason I even had the camera out was because my mom wanted proof that I was keeping up with it.

“So that’s it. I’m done.” Dipper hopped off the stool and then off the small stage his uncle had setup. “Grunkle Stan can show you guys the gift shop or, you know, you can just hang out here and look around at the museum,” dare it be called that, “a little longer.”

There was a small smattering of applause while the crowd dispersed, Wirt’s mom and step-dad being part of it. Hugging himself, he fought an internal battle between two very instinctive reactions. The first being, ‘run and hide and never face daylight again because this is why people laugh at you,’ while the second demanded to hear Dipper play the sousaphone because _he_ wanted to hear him play.

The battle just ended up making him feel a little sick to his stomach and kept him firmly rooted in place.

“That was a great question, Wirt,” Greg attempted to console him by being as supportive as ever. While he could count on him to essentially ruin his life, he could also count on him being the first to fix it, with the latter actually being intentional. “It was almost as good as mine.”

“Yeah, thanks, Greg,” he muttered.

“It was!” Mabel agreed. “Everyone always posts about it in the comments, but Dipper never bothers replying to any of them.”

“Hey, if they ask legitimate questions, I answer.”

“Sometimes.”

Dipper shrugged, unable to deny that, and his uncle clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. What was that?”

He looked up, face reddening yet again. “It was, uh... Look, Grunkle Stan, can I just not do this for a few days?”

The old man narrowed his eyes, though one was hidden behind an unnecessary eyepatch for the moment. “Alright, alright. I’ve got something coming in that’ll blow you sulking out of the water any day.” He yanked down Dipper’s hat, the teen laughing as he pushed the bill back up, and then his uncle was off, yelling at a couple of kids for touching exhibits.

“So now that that’s over, I-”

“You need to meet Wirt and Greg’s parents,” Mabel reminded him, smiling. “They’re here.”

He really wanted to go upstairs and try to find out the mysteries of the werebeast behavior. Or go practice his pitching with Soos, who never complained if the ball was thrown too hard. Or even go practice the stupid sousaphone now that it had been mentioned. Or anything, really, than stay in that room.

He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Right, sure.” He let his gaze trail to Wirt, who he’d been trying very hard not to look at, and hunched his shoulders. “You okay?”

“Still trying to convince myself that no one actually listens to the words that come out of my mouth and could care less about what I’m saying, but… yeah, no. I’m okay.”

Wirt finally relaxed enough so he could wave his arms a bit instead of staying curled up in his ball of defense. He blew out a long breath and straightened up some. They didn’t have much time to spend in Gravity Falls, he wasn’t going to waste a bunch of it agonizing over a question that probably wasn’t even that big of a deal. Or was it? Concern knitted his brow as he took in Dipper’s closed off body language.

“Are… are you? Should I not have asked about the sousaphone? I’m sorry it was the first thing I thought of. I mean, it’s the only thing I’ve ever commented on in your videos and now that just makes me look like even more of a weird… person who’s into… into sousaphones…”

“No, it’s fine. I mean- Wait.” It clicked quickly. Wirt liked poetry. Mabel had agonized for months over what to put on a sweater that could represent pilgrims because she just couldn’t have a gnome hat on a sweater, Dipper! Poetic Pilgrim. “That’s you. That was you.”

He flailed a little. “That was you! That stupid comment made me so mad- you have no idea! I almost deleted the video, but then it was just freaking funny and-” He laughed, the grin back on his face as he grabbed Wirt’s hands. “I can’t believe that was you. That was the worst best comment ever.”

“Um.” Wirt blinked, the flush to his cheeks returning but not out of embarrassment this time. “Thanks? Or… you’re welcome, I guess.”

Hands on his hips, cheeks puffed out in indignation, Greg glanced down at Mabel, then at Dipper, then down at Mabel again. “I missed the joke. What’s so funny?”

“There’s not really a joke,” she explained. “Dipper’s just a happy nerd.”

He glared at her, but it was half-hearted and ruined by his smile. He only reluctantly released Wirt’s hands - amazed that he hadn’t even tried to pull away - when two adults wandered over to them.

“Mom! Dad! Did you like Dipper’s talk?” Greg asked, immediately accepting the happy nerd explanation in favor of gaining their attention.

“We did,” their mom replied once they were close enough.

“I think the way you handled the distinction between hunting and studying the supernatural was very impressive,” Greg’s dad added. “I’m not surprised that our sons are so enamored with your videos! I’ve watched a few myself and I’ve got to say they’re very entertaining, not to mention informative.”

“Jonathan…” Wirt grumbled, rolling his eyes when his mom placed her hand on his shoulder.

“What my husband’s trying to say is that it’s wonderful to meet you, Dipper. We know how important this was to Wirt, and Greg too, that we get out here this summer. We’re happy we could make this happen,” she told him, then made sure to address both twins. “You seem like good kids.”

“And good for our kids,” Jonathan agreed.

Dipper didn’t know what the story was, how they’d been convinced to come all the way to Oregon, but he nodded. “Thanks. I mean, it was really important for me and Mabel to see them too. So thanks for bringing them and letting them stick around a little longer. And, uh, yeah, I’m gonna stop now before I start rambling. Like what I’m... already doing. Yup.”

Mabel poked his cheeks, laughing when he swatted her hands. “You only do that because you’re in the literary club at school.”

“What? What does that have to do with anything?” He leaned away from her. “Shut up, Mabel.”

“Is that why you ramble, too, Wirt? ‘Cause you like books?” Greg smacked his palm with his fist, as if he cracked the code.

Wirt chuckled quietly. “I’m pretty sure liking books has nothing to do with that, Greg. Good guess though.” He turned to their parents. “So what are you guys planning on doing next?”

“Well, I know I’m buying one of those shirts out there,” Jonathan replied, pointing in the direction of the gift shop. “Then I think your mom and I are going to swing by the Gravity Falls museum, then maybe grab some lunch afterwards.”

“You and Greg are free to hang out all day,” their mom added. “Just text me if you make plans for dinner so we know if you need a ride or anything.”

Wirt nodded. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

She gave him a pat on the cheek, then did the same to Greg. “You be good for your brother. Best behavior, right?”

“The very best,” he promised, drawing an X across his heart. “And that’s a rock fact!”

“One of your rock facts or one of your brother’s?” His dad raised an eyebrow for clarification.

“One of Wirt’s.” He flashed him the symbol for a-okay.

Jonathan returned it. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Their mom kissed Greg’s forehead, then waved goodbye as the adults started for the gift shop. “Love you both, be safe.”

“They’re with the paranormal experts, honey, they’ll be fine,” Jonathan assured her with a wink at the kids’ direction.

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Jonathan. I’ll keep in touch.” Wirt patted his pocket where his cell phone sat while Greg waved at them until they were gone. “Sorry about that. They just like to be… involved.”

“I feel like we were just politely pandered to.”

Mabel laughed. “Oh, bro-bro, they probably think your videos are fake like half your subscribers anyway!”

“How they think I can afford those kinds of effects is beyond me.”

Mabel laughed, dancing in place. She brought Greg around so she could add more flourish to the moves. She dipped him playfully. “And you guys should definitely stay for dinner! And lunch! I’m making lasagna for lunch! I’m a lasagna expert,” she assured them, bumping her nose against Greg’s.

Dipper smiled. “She kind of is, so you can stay if you want.”

“I like lasagna!” Greg poked both of Mabel’s cheeks, then tipped his head backwards so he could look at his brother upside-down. “Can we?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.” Wirt shrugged, the smile he had for Greg turning a bit shy as he glanced at Dipper. “I don’t suppose we could hear a bit of your sousaphone skills while we’re here, could we?” He broached hesitantly, while Greg gasped loudly with a dramatic and excited, “Yeah!”

“I don’t- I’m not last chair anymore, but I wouldn’t call them skills. It’s just a sousaphone.” Dipper rocked back on his heels. “But maybe. I guess. I don’t know. Did you bring your clarinet?”

Wirt nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s uh… it’s back at the motel, but I can always go get it. You know, if you wanted me to.”

“Go get it! Go get it now!” Mabel insisted. “Greg, agree with me!”

“I agree with Mabel!” he cheered, then righted himself in her arms and wiggled about to get down. “C’mon, Wirt! Let’s go get it!”

“Okay, okay. We’ll go get it.” Wirt gave up on trying to calm them down to a volume less piercing by moving his hands in the ‘keep it down’ gesture.

“I’ve still got to finish yesterday’s video, so I guess I’ll go do that. Meet back here whenever.”

Mabel laughed, hugging herself. “And don’t forget to tell your parents about tomorrow night. I think they should probably know about that, if they like to be involved in things. And- oh! Greg! We need to go get Jason Funderburker. He and Waddles are probably wondering where we’ve been all day. Do you want to stay here and keep me company while Dipper plays on his computer and Wirt gets his clarinet?”

“Mm…” Greg’s brow furrowed while he tapped his chin in thought.

He looked at Mabel, who he wouldn’t get to see all that much once their vacation was over and who was a ton of fun and had cool sweaters, then he looked at Wirt, who he saw all the time but got scared on his own and was also a ton of fun and also had cool sweaters. This was tough. His brother clearly needed him as protection, but he didn’t want Mabel to be all alone either.

Wirt bent down to be at his level, placing his hand on his shoulder. “You should stay here with Mabel, Greg. I won’t be long. Besides, getting my clarinet won’t be nearly as fun as whatever adventures you and Mabel could have.”

Greg stared at him with a seriousness he didn’t often display. “You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent sure.” He ruffled his hair, then accepted the hug Greg launched at him. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Is that a rock fact?”

“You know it is.” Wirt waited until Greg let go of him first, then straightened up. “I’ll see you guys in a bit. And I’ll definitely let our parents know about the party,” he told the twins with a little wave.

“Okay. You catching a ride with them or do you want to borrow my bike again? The walk’s not a bad one, but, you know.”

“I’ll catch a ride with them. That way I can tell them about the plans for tomorrow. Thanks though.” With that, Wirt retraced the steps the brothers’ parents had gone, hoping to catch them while they were still standing in line to buy Jonathan one of those shirts.

Greg waved at his retreating back, maintaining as brave a face as he could. “Bye, Wirt.”

“Come on, pal o’ mine, let’s go see what adventures our pets have had. Dipper?”

“Heading to my room. See you.” He ruffled Greg’s hair as he passed, smiling in Wirt’s direction before pushing through the Employees Only door to head into the home part of the Shack.

Mabel skipped through seconds after him, Greg on her shoulders. When they got to her room, the pig lifted his head and oinked. He hadn’t changed much in the two and a half years, though his pot belly was a little rounder and his spots a bit darker. Mabel petted both him and Jason Funderburker fondly after setting Greg on his feet to wander her room.

He immediately latched onto Jason Funderburker, cuddling his frog with both arms. _Ribbit_. While it was a contented enough croak, it was also one that was meant to be reassuring. That frog o’ theirs always knew just the right thing to say. Or not say. Satisfied with his hug, Greg tucked him under one arm and went over to pet Waddles, too. He giggled when the pig pressed his snout to his palm.

Mabel grinned at them, gathering a stack of coloring books and sprawling on her stomach right on her floor. Her room had a desk like Dipper’s, but it was currently covered in knitting supplies and scraps of cloth waiting for inspiration. She had a sketchbook as well, but waved the remaining blank pages away in favor of letting Greg do as he liked.

“Hm. Markers, crayons, colored pencils, or all the above?”

Greg hummed as he examined all their options. “Let’s not limit ourselves,” he decided. “All of the above!”

“Excellent decision making!” A bucket of color was retrieved and set amongst the books. She stretched out on the floor again, holding her chin in her hands as she smiled at him. It was easier for Wirt and Dipper - the two of them were certainly old enough to be aware of what they had truly gone through in The Unknown. Greg, at seven, only saw it as a grand adventure. While a part of him did know - at least she believed part of him knew - that the events held some modicum of seriousness, he was too sweet and too young to be able to grasp everything entirely.

It was wonderful, she thought, that Wirt had been wise enough to protect his little brother from the full truth and it was wonderful still to see how much better of a brother he was now. They’d clearly benefitted from their experiences in The Unknown, the place her brother referred to as some kind of limbo. Mabel simply took it for what it was, no label beyond The Unknown necessary for her. She didn’t need the research to know what had happened - they had nearly died, they’d gone on a journey through a whimsical place, and they’d decided to live.

And she was so glad, so relieved, that it had been a whimsical place where time had no boundaries or restrictions. Yes, it had led to two and a half years of two things she simply never did - stress and worry - but it was alright. Greg was still just as sweet as he’d been, and didn’t care at all that she was older. It was easier for Wirt and Dipper to talk things through, which was fine by her because they needed that. They needed the research and an answer to bubble in. She only needed to know that they’d all ended up fine and happy.

She picked up a pencil, running it through her fingers, and pushed the thoughts aside because they were fine and they were happy. Now, maybe with a bit of meddling, they would all just be happier. More happy? Happier. She laughed to herself. “Let’s see... I already know about your wonderful drawing talents. What else do you like to do? What’s your favorite thing in the world?”

Sprawled out on his stomach, content to have Jason Funderburker sitting on his back while he grabbed a bright red marker from the bucket, Greg’s eyes rounded at the question. “My favorite thing in the world? Whoa. That could be anything!” _Ribbit._ “Well, of course you are, Jason Funderburker! And Wirt, but I don’t think that’s what Mabel means.” He smiled up at her, then started working on his drawing.

“I like to do lots of things. I like making up songs best. Wirt’s been teaching me how to play the clarinet and the guitar, and I’m teaching myself drums. I also like to play pretend and make-believe games. I’m really good at playing pretend. Sometimes I play spies or treasure hunter or pirate or sometimes I play like I’m in The Unknown and have to save Wirt from The Beast.” Greg swapped his marker for a peach colored crayon. “What do you like to do? I know you’re an arts and crafts master and make nice sweaters.”

“I like to help Dipper. He’s good at saving the day, but he gets so serious sometimes. He just needs to smile.” She reached out and poked his cheeks. “I like to sing karaoke and dance, too.”

She wanted to take his hand and squeeze, but let him draw. “Do you want to tell me about when it wasn’t make-believe? Do you want to tell me about saving Wirt from The Beast?”

Greg looked up from where he’d drawn his peach circle under the red triangle. He twisted his lips as he considered it, then nodded, immediately dropping his gaze to the bucket as he searched for a dark blue marker or colored pencil. He also grabbed brown while he was at it, and black.

“Wirt made me the leader because it was my fault we got lost. You and Dipper were gone and Beatrice was gone and it was just us, but he trusted me to be the leader and get us home. But I didn’t know how, I’d never been leader before. So I made a wish. On a star because I didn’t have a wishing well, or any pennies to throw in a wishing well because I had no cents at all. The wish took me to Cloud City and then I met the Queen of Cloud City and she said she’d grant me my one wish, so I asked her to show us the way home, like a good leader, but she said Wirt couldn’t come with me.”

Greg sat up a little, tilting his head as he inspected the figure with the black antlers standing over the drawing of his brother tangled up in brown vines. “The Beast claimed him. So I changed my wish.” He pushed the paper aside with a frown, then started a new drawing. “I wished to switch places with Wirt, so he could go home and then I went to face The Beast because I was pretty sure I could beat him. I mean, you can do anything if you set your mind to it, so I set my mind to it because I didn’t want Wirt to get stuck there. Then The Beast had me do three tasks, and I did them. I did them all and I beat him, but I think I took too long.”

Mabel took the drawing and sighed quietly. “You know it wasn’t your fault, don’t you?” She cupped his chin, lifting his head and studying his too-serious face. “Remember when I told you that Wirt was scared? Sometimes brothers say things they don’t mean when they’re scared. Sisters do too, but it’s mostly brothers.”

She gave him a smile, then sat up, holding her arms out to him so he could climb into her lap for a hug. “Why do you think you took too long?”

“I turned into a tree,” he answered, rubbing his cheek against her sweater as he clung to her. “I got really tired and I put roots into the ground. I didn’t mean to. And I know Wirt was scared, that’s why I had to be brave and save him. But then he got brave and saved me back. He found me and made The Beast go away.”

“Then you saved each other, huh?” She stroked his hair, rocking to soothe. “You distracted The Beast and did all of his challenges.” Though after dealing with the paranormal as long as she had gave her a good idea that the “challenges” had only been The Beast’s way of further controlling the boy she held. “You were strong, and you gave Wirt enough time to be just as strong as you. I’m proud of you, Greg. You did such a good job. You both did.”

He tilted his head back to blink up at her. “You are?” He relaxed in her lap, easing his grip on her as he patted her arm. “I’m proud of you and Dipper, too. It wasn’t easy for me to leave Wirt, so I know it wasn’t easy for you to leave us either, but it’s what you had to do. You did a good job, too.”

She laughed and rubbed her nose to his tinier one. “We all did a good job, and we’ll keep doing a good job. All four of us - you, me, Dipper, and Wirt. Right?”

“That’s right, General Mabel.” He smiled as he poked her cheeks. “We can do anything if we set our minds to it!”

He gave her a better hug, a happier hug, then sat back and looked down at their arts and crafts pile. The new drawing he’d started showed much more promise than the last one. There were already four smiling figures ready to be further personalized.

“Can I finish my drawing?” he asked, pointing to the new one.

“Absolutely!” She let him off her lap, though she stood while he flopped back onto his stomach. “I have something I want to show you and Wirt when he gets back, okay? For now...”

She fished her camera out of her skirt pocket and took the smiling boy’s picture. It wasn’t the same camera as she’d had before, that one having met an unfortunate fate courtesy of one of the ghosts Greg was so interested in the summer before. “How about we start lunch after we finish coloring?”

“Okay. I’m starting to get hungry anyway,” he agreed, then reached out to Mabel. “Let’s take a picture together! You and me! Oh, and Waddles and Jason Funderburker!”

“Yes!” She did have a scrapbook to update, after all. She didn’t bother with a timer for this one, simply shifting until they were all in frame and snapped a selfie. “We’ll take one with our brothers later. These scrapbookortunities can’t go to waste!”

Greg laughed, flopping back onto his stomach. “Yeah! We need lots of pictures of the best vacation ever! Camera pictures, drawing pictures,” he trailed off as he started working anew on his masterpiece of all of them - each of them at their proper ages now - and no longer set in The Unknown. “We’ll see each other again after this summer, right Mabel?”

“Are you kidding? Of course we will! Maybe we’ll visit you in Massachusetts next time, since you came all the way here. And we can always talk on the phone.”

“Okay. I’ll give you Wirt’s cell phone number when I remember what it is,” Greg promised, then sat back and examined his drawing before holding it above his head in the air triumphantly. “Ta-da! It’s for you!”

“It’s perfect! Thank you.” She took the drawing and hung it up on her closet right beside the first drawing he’d given her, and turned when she heard a knock at her door. “Hey, Dipper.”

“Hey.” He leaned against her doorjamb, grinning at them both. “Video’s up. I’m going out front to pitch to Soos if you wanted to come watch. He can’t hold the radar gun and catch at the same time.”

“I was going to start lunch. Lasagna won’t make itself, and Greg and I are hungry.”

“Hungry for lasagna!” Greg seconded, waving his arms so the sweater sleeves flopped about. “Me or Jason Funderburker can catch though, unless Mabel needs our help. Do you need our help? We’re good kitchen helpers. And good baseball catchers. We try to expand our horizons.”

Dipper snorted. “You’re a busy guy, Greg.” The twins communicated wordlessly over his head, Mabel retrieving a scrapbook from a shelf and Dipper shrugging. “Come on. You can hold the radar gun for me, and yell out the numbers. It’s the most important job I’ve got.”

His eyes went wide. “Whoa. Alright, Dipper. I’ll do my best.” Greg picked up Jason Funderburker and hopped over the markers, pausing when he caught sight of his first drawing. “Um, Mabel? Don’t tell Wirt about that one. Or the story I told you. I don’t think he likes when I talk about it much. Is that okay?”

She picked it up, folding it in half and tucking it away in her pocket. “Our secret,” she promised. “Not even telling you, Dipper.”

“Rude.” He swung Greg and his frog up, placing them on his shoulders.

“Yo, dude!” was shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “You coming down or what?”

“On my way, Soos!”

Mabel waved at Greg, laughing when he waved back, and began to clean up the mess of coloring supplies while her brother carried the boy out. She unfolded the drawing of Wirt, surrounded by branches and loomed over by a black figure, and shivered. Her sweet little friend had gone through quite a bit after they’d left, and so had his brother.

She’d have to keep Greg cheered up and work a little harder on getting Wirt and Dipper to flirt more. Slow nerds. With a laugh, the drawing was tucked into her sketchpad and put back on a shelf, and then she was skipping down the stairs to begin creating a masterpiece of food.

 

\----

 

Greg was seated at a picnic table behind Soos and a piece of fence that had been fashioned into a batting cage the summer before. Now it served as a barrier from any stray pitches. The radar gun was propped up on a couple of books, freeing Greg’s hands to pet his frog and wave them around when he excitedly shouted numbers.

Dipper had twisted his cap around and removed his vest, finding it easier to throw without the puffy material. It helped him think, the adjustment of his fingers for the right pitch, the rhythm of the setup, and then the feeling of leather as it flew from his fingertips. It was better when there was a batter and a challenge, but this worked well too. He could talk out loud with Soos, and now Greg, around to listen as he puzzled this latest mystery.

“Scraggly werehares. Crazy werefoxes. It’s not normal. They don’t look right based off the pages in the journal, at least the hares don’t. That fox didn’t look normal at all just, y’know, because I’ve seen them.”

He grabbed a baseball from the bucket beside him, roughly a dozen more pooled around Soos. The impromptu catcher didn’t have the best aim, so it was easier to just have a bunch of balls handy. Once they ran out, they’d stop.

Eyes narrowed, Dipper let his fingers roll, waiting for them to settle. Curveball. “Not to mention this early in the season. I know I keep saying it, but it’s weird. They shouldn’t be out and about for another month and a half. I mean, if things didn’t keep to their rhythm here, it’d be crazy!”

“Yeah, dude. Crazier than normal.” Soos cringed just a little when the powerful pitch smacked the center of his glove, but he didn’t complain. “Alright, little dude, what’d the numbers say?” he called to Greg, watching Dipper retrieve another ball.

“Seventy-seven!” Greg called out. “Oh, wow, Dipper! You got double lucky numbers!”

Soos chuckled. “Nice, dude!”

“Uh-huh.” He bounced on his heels a bit, ignoring his twin when she darted out of the house.

“Lasagna’s in the oven!” she cheered, sidling up beside Greg on the bench. “Food soon, my friend,” she promised and poked Greg’s belly while Dipper let another pitch fly. “Seventy-five!” she called. “What was that one?”

“Slider.”

“Wirt!” Greg jumped off the bench and bolted right between Dipper and Soos, expertly hopping over wayward baseballs on his way to meet his older brother as he approached them. “You took forever! Lasagna’s almost done and Dipper’s playing baseball!”

“I can see that,” Wirt replied amiably, stopping to let him loop his arms around his waist and to set his clarinet case down before scooping him up. “Well, the baseball part. I can’t see the lasagna from out here.”

“I’m helping Dipper read the numbers from his pitches.” Greg jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the radar gun and Mabel. “He’s really good. He throws faster than Dad drives on the freeway!”

“That so?” Wirt arched an eyebrow, unable to help the upward quirk of his lips as he took in the amount of balls their little set-up had accumulated. “How many other secret talents do you have?”

“Well, I mean, it’s not really a secret?”

“Dipper’s the best pitcher in our county!” Mabel bragged.

He reached up to tug the bill of his hat down, forgetting that it was on backwards, and tugged a curl instead. “Cut it out, Mabel.”

She laughed, beckoning them over. “Come on and sit. Food won’t be ready for at least another half hour.”

Wirt set Greg down so he could grab his clarinet case, though his little brother kept a good grip on his other hand as he dragged him back to the bench. Greg gave up his seat in favor of sitting on Mabel’s lap, while Jason Funderburker moved enough to give the older brother space. Both brothers looked to Dipper expectantly - well, Greg was more expectant, while Wirt simply looked intrigued.

Dipper shook himself, ducking his head and muttering about werebeasts under his breath to get himself back into the zone. Puzzles. His fingers rolled. Two seams clicked and the ball rocketed into Soos’s glove.

Mabel grinned at the ninety-five Greg called out, then shifted her gaze to Wirt. “He is the best pitcher in the county. He’s on the high school team, which is obviously why he’s only in band half the year. Marching band gets in the way of baseball practice, but concert band doesn’t.”

“Wow.” Wirt gaped at the numbers, then at Dipper.

It certainly wasn’t at all what he expected, not that he really knew what to expect. While he wasn’t well-versed in the world of sports, he knew that was good. Better than good. And he’d looked better than good, too. Of course, Wirt kicked himself mentally for thinking that, but the thought like the butterflies in his stomach had come unbidden and definitely uninvited.

“He’s amazing.” Apparently his mouth didn’t get the memo. “How- uh, how long has he been playing?” he asked Mabel, focusing his gaze on her while his brain worked on sorting itself out.

“Eighth grade. Well, the summer after. There’s a team just outside of town that one of Wendy’s brothers was on, and Dipper needed a distraction from-” She faltered a little. You. You and why you weren’t there. “Stuff. And, um, their pitcher had wrenched their shoulder. Dipper watched some videos, did some crazy math like he always does, and figured out how to pitch.

“He’s dual-enrolled through the local college, too,” she continued, ruffling Greg’s hair when he called out ninety-two. “Mostly in the math and science classes. He took a placement test at the beginning of last school year and they put him in calculus two and physics two. I don’t know how he keeps it all in his head, but he’s always been good at that sort of thing.”

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt blinked, slowly shifting his gaze back to Dipper. “That’s… wow. I can barely handle high school, I can’t imagine taking college classes on top of that. And he still finds the time to do all those videos and keep up with his channel?”

“Well, there’s Gravity Falls and there’s Piedmont. I think they’re two different worlds for him since, well, they’re kind of two different worlds for me too. During school, I take dance lessons and I’m in theatre. Dipper does college courses and band and literary club and baseball and... stuff. Literary club meets at lunch, though, so college in the morning, high school in the afternoon. He should probably go full-time, but...”

She shrugged, watching her brother line up another pitch. This one curved gracefully, still striking the center of Soos’s glove, and came in at eighty-eight. A little ridiculous for a curveball, but he was thinking and maybe showing off a little. “Dipper and I’ve always gone to the same school, so I think that’s why he doesn’t get his diploma early like he should.”

Wirt nodded, admiring the pitch regardless - he didn’t know any better after all. “I can see that. I mean, graduating high school’s a big deal and I’m sure he wants to share that with you. And… I don’t know, it just seems like he’s the kind of guy that if he wanted something bad enough, he’d do his best to go for it, yeah?”

“Most things. You should see him when he has a crush on someone. He kind of does everything but go for it. He stutters and blushes a lot. And he gets clumsy, like a goober.”

Werewolves! Dipper thought, letting another fastball go. He and Mabel had just seen werewolves and none of them had seen to be behaving oddly. They just had to go back to their den and ask them if they knew why the other werebeasts were acting up!

Thrilled with his line of thought, he went into another pitch, but glanced up to tell his sister the conclusion he’d come to, but he had the unfortunate luck of noticing Wirt first. Wirt actually paying attention to and watching him and, oh, his life was over.

He immediately tripped over his own feet, the ball flying high, and he had just enough time to yelp before it came down right on top of his head. “Freaking-!”

Mabel grinned. “Kind of like that. Come on, Greg, let’s go check on lunch.”

Squinting at the numbers on the radar gun, Greg shrugged and grabbed Jason Funderburker before trailing after Mabel. Wirt, on the other hand, had been about to go check on Dipper when her response had his head swiveling to her fast enough to give him whiplash.

“Wait- what? What did you just say?” he squeaked, but the two of them had already wandered away. “You’re… you’re just kidding, right? Oh my gosh, I don’t think she was kidding. No, come on, it probably meant nothing. It definitely meant nothing. Why would it mean anything? Stop talking to yourself, Wirt.” He slapped himself in face and groaned, taking a second to compose himself so he could chance another glance at Dipper and the way he clutched at his head. That hat didn’t offer much protection, if any. “Are you- are you okay? Should I get some ice?”

Dipper’s head snapped up and he opened and closed his mouth twice, color flooding his face before he jerked the bill of his cap around and down to try and hide. “Fine!” he squeaked, then thumped his chest, clearing his throat. “I’m fine. Oh, man.” Idiot, idiot, idiot. “I should, uh, clean up this... stuff. Uh. Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Wirt tilted his head a little. “I mean, I’ve never been hit by a baseball before, but uh… I’ll- I’ll just help.” He bent down and picked up one of the baseballs and turned it around in his hands a few times before placing it in the bucket.

“Th-thanks.” He made a beeline for Soos, who was tugging off Dipper’s spare catcher’s mitt.

“Whoa, dude, I think there’s, like, permanent lines in my hand now.”

Dipper scrubbed his hands over his face, hoping to get rid of the blush. “Sorry. I was kind of- Sorry.” He stooped down, gathering an armful of scattered baseballs and carried them back over, trying to look at anything and everything but Wirt. He very nearly tripped over the bucket.

Wirt caught some of the baseballs that fell out, tossing them back inside as he glanced at Dipper. Did Mabel’s words mean something? With the way he was completely avoiding looking at him - because Wirt wasn’t dumb, he could see that something was off - he could only assume that he was too embarrassed, mad at him for something, or… maybe possibly entirely unlikely but still possible given their earlier conversation… crushing on him. Wirt couldn’t help the snort of disbelief. Who would honestly, in their right mind, crush on him? No, no, it was ridiculous. Absurd, even. Mabel was just messing with him.

Clearly Dipper was just embarrassed that he hit himself in the head with a baseball. That was fine, that was okay, he told himself mentally. Why wouldn’t he be embarrassed? Not that he needed to be, people made mistakes, it was natural. He just needed to bolster his confidence. Yeah, that was all.

“Hey, your pitching’s really amazing, you know,” he piped up, sort of hating how awkward his voice sounded after the silence. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Not that I watch a lot of baseball or anything… but, uh… even if I did, I’m sure I’d still feel the same way. I mean, Mabel said you’re the best in the county, and you know, that’s obvious. Clearly.” The other very clear thing was how terrible he was at trying to compliment him. Wirt wanted to beam himself with a baseball as he chucked another one into the bucket.

“Uh.” Dipper swiped damp palms on his jeans. He really should be better at handling crushes like this. Oh, man, crushing on Wirt was probably an awful idea. He’d said he was still figuring things out, not... It wasn’t a settled thing, and that really wasn’t going to help anything. Maybe possibly straight didn’t hold a candle to nice and cute and-

Dipper gave him a sidelong look and bumped their shoulders together. It really wasn’t fair how cute he was with his sweater and messy hair in the midst of summer. “Thanks, Wirt. Um.” His smile was shy before he ducked his head again. “Thanks.”

Wirt watched him a moment, debating with himself silently until he gently and hesitantly bumped his shoulder back. “You’re… you’re welcome.” He cleared his throat a little, hoping the warmth in his cheeks could be played off of the summer heat rather than anything else. “So, uh, still up for a sousaphone and clarinet duet after lunch? You know, before diving into more of the mysteries of Gravity Falls.”

He decided not to mention the werewolf epiphany. It wasn’t entirely safe for him and Mabel to go that way again so soon, let alone to take along two unfamiliar scents. It could wait for morning. “I think the real mystery is why you’d actually like the sousaphone.”

Wirt laughed, not expecting the play on words. “Well, because it’s what you play.” It took a second after the words left his mouth for his smile to falter and his eyes to widen. “I mean- uh- and it’s a good instrument. It’s… the embouchure is… way different from what I’m used to and different is nice sometimes.”

His nose scrunched, just a little, when he laughed. Dipper blew out a slow, unsteady breath, and knew he was going to end up lying awake that night thinking about the way his stupid nose scrunched. Oh, man. “I, uh, I like the clarinet because it’s what you play,” he admitted quietly and jolted when Soos dumped the last of the baseballs into the bucket.

Unoffended and hardly noticing that he’d done most of the collecting with the two of them absorbed by each other, Soos smiled. “That’s all of ‘em, dudes.”

“Okay,” Dipper managed, voice cracking on the word. He winced. “I’ll just, uh, take this stuff back to my room.”

“I’ll help,” Wirt volunteered quickly, rubbing his arm as he glanced away. “And uh- I’ll take my clarinet up there, too, for now. Unless you wanted to play somewhere else.”

“That works.” Dipper scrambled to his feet, hauling up the bucket and hugging it almost defensively to his chest. If this crush wasn’t going to go away than he needed to think up a plan to deal with it or to possibly admit to it. Oh, man.

He spun on his heel to go to the bench, tugging on his vest and grabbing the radar gun. “I guess, uh, get the gloves and your clarinet and we’ll be good. Thanks for catching for me, Soos.”

“Anytime, dude.”

Wirt tucked the gloves under his arm, then nodded and gave a little half wave to Soos as he grabbed the clarinet next. He followed behind Dipper for a few steps, then sped up a bit to fall into step beside him. Because friends walked beside friends, and they were friends.

He glanced at Dipper, eyeing the way he held onto the bucket so closely and felt his fingers tighten around the handle for his clarinet case in response. Maybe… maybe not exactly just friends though. Oh boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like both boys are in a bit of a pickle~
> 
> Will Dipper elect to ignore his crush or go for it? Will Wirt become less of a clueless dolt? Will Mabel unveil her grand master plan? And will Greg ever get to see a ghost? Stay tuned.


	6. Chapter 6

“This… this is the worst. It’s the absolute worst.”

Wirt’s heart was pounding in his chest like he’d just been chased by a wild animal or asked to do an oral presentation in front of his class. He paced the length of the motel room, wearing out the carpet from his ceaseless treading. Ever since he’d bolted from the bed with a scrap of paper clutched in his hand, he’d been stuck in the endless loop of pacing, worrying, and rereading whatever was scrawled on the piece of notebook paper.

Greg watched him from the bed they were sharing. While he found little entertainment in his brother’s bouts of freaking out, Wirt was blocking the little TV that they had in the room so it didn’t leave him much else to look at. Plus, he was sometimes talking to him, even if he didn’t mean to be half the time, and Greg wanted to make sure he was listening in case Wirt actually said something that he supposed to hear.

 _Ribbit._ Jason Funderburker was also captivated by the older brother, blinking at Greg for some insight while the little boy shrugged helplessly. He didn’t have all the answers.

“How did I let it get this bad? It wasn’t this bad yesterday!” Wirt let the paper flutter to the ground as he gripped at his hair. “Greg, how did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “One minute you were sitting on the bed and the next minute you were squawking around like a funny chicken.”

“No, I’m not talking about this this!” Wirt gestured to the room as if that explained what he was doing, then he snatched up the paper and jabbed his finger into the middle of it. “This! How did _this_ happen?”

“You used a pencil?” he guessed.

“I wrote a poem.” Wirt held one hand to his forehead, brushing back his bangs. “This is it. This is the end of all things. Everything. Everything that’s good and normal and sane and I can’t believe I wrote him a poem!”

He threw it at the wall this time, but since it was paper it just sort of did a loop-de-loop in the air before casually drifting back to bump into Wirt’s face. He batted it away with a huff, turning his back on it to continue pacing. Greg grabbed it gently, smoothing out the wrinkles from his brother’s grip.

“What’s wrong with this poem? You write good poems, Wirt.” Greg couldn’t exactly read his brother’s chicken-scratch writing, but when he squinted at it he was able to make out a few nice words. Something about a cool breath of fresh air in the middle of summer’s stifling, staggering heat. A breath of fresh air was always good, he was pretty sure.

Wirt sighed, then banged his head against the wall as he slumped to a stop over by the bathroom. “It’s not that it’s a bad poem. I actually kind of like this poem. I mean, as far as spur of the moment poems go, but- no. No, the problem is what the poem’s about.” Wirt crossed his arms as he slid around so his back was pressed to the wall, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Who the poem’s about.”

“Oh.” Greg looked down at the lines on the paper again, but couldn’t find any clues jumping out at him just yet.

Even though Greg didn’t say anything useful, his voice had caught Wirt’s attention anyway and his gaze drifted down from the mottled ceiling to focus on him. “I… I write a lot of poems, Greg. You know that. But… but I don’t write that much about people I know. Not unless they’re really important to me. On a… on a deep level. _Ugh._ Why is this happening?”

Wirt hid his face in his hands for a moment, then pushed away from the wall. He sat down on the edge of the bed Greg was on and held his hand out. Greg offered him the poem, as more of a guess really, but it was what Wirt wanted. He sighed and held it out at arm’s length, glaring at the words as if they personally offended him.

“We’re supposed to be friends. I mean, friends is a huge deal for me as it is, but we literally just met. I mean, we met before, but can that even count? Up until two days ago I knew him as a thirteen-year-old kid! A kid! He might’ve taken offense to that at the time, but thirteen is a kid, and you and I both know it.”

“Uh-huh!” Greg agreed, not quite following along, but recognized when Wirt wanted him on his side.

“And yeah, he’s not a kid now, and hasn’t been for a while because he’s aged like a normal person and I just didn’t know he existed until this past year, but that’s still no excuse for- uh…” Wirt paused and blinked, then looked at Greg. “Where was I going with this?”

“Uh… poems?” Greg hazarded a guess.

“Poems, right.” Wirt’s brow furrowed as he nodded. “Just because he’s fifteen now doesn’t mean that’s an excuse to write poems. About him. Oh my gosh. I wrote a poem about him.”

Wirt flopped backwards onto the bed, then rolled onto his stomach to bury his face against it and groan miserably. Greg crawled over to him and patted him on the back. It seemed to help, a little.

“It’s okay, Wirt. I bet Dipper will really like your poem,” he offered as reassurance.

Wirt lifted his head to glower at him. “Dipper won’t get to feel one way or the other about the poem because he’s never reading it. Ever.” He hid his face again, only to come up a beat later with narrowed eyes. “How did you know it was Dipper?”

Greg shrugged. “It makes sense.”

“How does it make sense?” Wirt rolled onto his back again. “On what plane of existence does any of this make sense?”

“I don’t know. He’s nice. I know if I was gonna like somebody enough to write them a poem, it would probably be someone who was nice.”

The worry lines creasing his eyes faded a little. “You’re saying I like Dipper and wrote him a poem… because he’s nice.”

“Yeah.” Greg nodded. “That’s why, right?”

“You don’t think there’s something wrong with me?” Wirt’s insecurities flared up, but a little bit of hope glimmered in his eyes when he looked at him. “That I don’t stand a chance because I’m me and he’s him?”

“No. Why wouldn’t you be you and him be… him?”

“I mean… he’s got a lot going for him, you know that. And he is nice, he’s genuinely a nice guy and helps people and is great at baseball and school and music and- and what have I got?” Wirt sighed heavily, hope and heart shattering on his face as he curled in on himself. “What good am I to him? All I’ve done so far is saddle him and Mabel with two and half years’ worth of guilt.”

“I helped with that,” Greg piped up, attempting to lighten the mood, but Wirt didn’t even really look at him. He had some faraway, sad look in his eyes. “I think you’re good. I think you’re really good! You’re nice and good at music and poetry and stuff. You know lots of things about the insides of buildings. And you know how to skip rocks farther than anyone else I’ve ever met!” At that Wirt gave him an odd look, so he struck up a firm pose, hands on his hips and cheeks puffed out. “And if Dipper doesn’t think you’re good to him, then he’s the one who’s not good for you.” With that said, he dropped the stern look and smiled. “But like I said, I bet he’ll like your poem and you.”

“Greg… how-?” Wirt shook his head slowly, then sat up to ruffle his hair. “You’re impossible, you know that? How am I supposed to wallow in misery if you’re always there to cheer me up?”

“I don’t know. That’s your problem,” he replied, then accepted the hug Wirt dragged him into. “Do you feel better?”

“A little, yeah. My heart still shudders from the chill where blissful ignorance once laid at peace with its lot in life. But what can you do about that?” Wirt shrugged.

“Are you gonna tell Dipper you like him?” Greg asked.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No. Mm-mm. Not happening. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in this lifetime.”

“But you could tell him at the party! That would be a good place to tell him, huh?”

“It really wouldn’t, Greg. Listen, I appreciate you wanting to help with this, but I’m… I’m fine with the way things are,” Wirt told him. “We’re only here for a few more days and I… I don’t want to ruin anything by opening my big mouth and spilling out all sorts of feelings that Dipper doesn’t need on his plate right now. Or ever. So we’ll just go back home and I’ll… I won’t have to worry about it anymore. You know, maybe the next time we see them these… feelings and poems… will have passed.”

“But won’t that make you sad?” Greg pressed. “And what if Dipper likes you back? Wouldn’t that make him sad, too?”

“He doesn’t like me back, Greg. Trust me.” He ruffled his hair again, then moved him aside so he could get up. “And yeah, I might be sad for a little bit, but I can handle it. It’s fine.”

His eyes fell on the poem and lingered for a minute or two, retracing the lines with his gaze. Then he crumpled it up into a ball and tossed it into his clarinet case where it sat open on the floor. Wirt shook his head and exhaled on a long breath before rummaging through his suitcase for a sweater to replace the one he was wearing.

“Do you- do you still want to go to the party, Greg?” he asked hesitantly.

Greg sat up straight. “Yeah,” he answered, a little quieter than normal. “We said that we’d go. They’re gonna wonder where we are and why we didn’t come.”

Just like the summer after they returned from The Unknown. Wirt’s fingers clenched around the burgundy sweater he clutched in his hands. How fitting. He set the sweater aside and peeled off the yellow one he had on so he could trade it.

“You’re right. Yeah.” He smoothed out the fabric, then dusted off his pants when he straightened up. “We’ll still go, Greg. Don’t worry. We’ll head out in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay.” Greg watched him as he picked up a book from the motel nightstand and flopped on his stomach on the bed their parents had been using.

While Wirt flipped through the pages, Jason Funderburker croaked for his attention. Greg sighed a little and shrugged again. He still didn’t have all the answers. Ain’t that just the way?

Wirt stayed true to his word though, and the brothers and their frog left for the Mystery Shack with the sun still high in the sky and plenty of time before the party was due to start.

 

\----

 

This was dumb. Dipper sighed, partially zipping up his hoodie and thinking longingly of his vest. But it was a party, right? The summer kick off. There was no rule against dressing a little nicer than normal. It wasn’t as though he was really trying to look any better than normal for any particular person. Reason. Any particular reason.

Oh, man, he was in deep.

He grabbed his hat, covering the hair he’d actually taken the time to brush, and felt more and more like an idiot. After a trek through the woods with his sister - a disappointing and disturbing one with the werewolves not in their den - he’d actually showered. Oh, man, he was trying to look good for him.

This was so completely stupid. The last time he’d had a crush on someone during this party, he’d ended up using a magical copier on himself a good ten times. Absolute disaster, but he knew it was bad when he was contemplating trying the same thing. But he felt like Wirt might notice if the Dipper that showed up to the party had a two written in place of the pine tree on his cap. Maybe Wirt would notice. He wanted Wirt to notice.

He rubbed his hands over his blushing face. His heart was fluttering with nerves, his stomach was churning, he was starting to feel itchy. Itchy! Why couldn’t this stupid crush have stayed away? He hated feeling this much uncertainty.

“Hey, Dipper!”

He yelped, leaping back, grasping at his chest. “Mabel!”

She laughed and poked his chest, thrilled to see him spiffing himself up in his own Dipper way. “Are those your new jeans?”

“No.”

They both knew it was a lie, but Mabel grinned. “No bow tie?”

“If I didn’t wear one last year, why would I wear one this year? What was cool at twelve is no longer cool.”

“Wendy’s wearing hers.”

“Wendy likes to be ironic.” He jammed his hands into his pocket, frowning at her. “Why are you always in my room?”

“Because you never leave it locked when you’re thinking about things. Whomp, whomp.” She poked his cheeks twice and he swatted her hands away. “Ready to party, bro-bro?”

“I guess. We still have to decorate.”

“Guess who already has confiscated cans of silly string?” she flaunted, then went to peer out the window after making sure he’d smiled. She pressed her nose to the glass, peering through the stained wash of color. “I grabbed a couple of extra cans for Wirt and Greg. They should be here soon, right? They said they’d come early.”

And his problem returned. Dipper rocked on his heels, but was unable to help but join his sister at the window to search for them. “Yeah, but we never really laid out plans before they left.”

After their very strange, very funny duet had ended because Dipper hadn’t been able to concentrate on the notes once he’d realized that Wirt had fallen into his own world, eyes closed as he played. And then the way he’d blushed and stammered when he’d realized that he’d finished the song on a solo.

Dipper liked to play, loved to, really, and was always willing to pick up his sousaphone and go somewhere to play it on his own to avoid bothering anyone. But Wirt threw himself wholeheartedly into music like Dipper threw himself wholeheartedly into his plans or physics. That had been really nice to see, and it had been another reason why Dipper had led a largely sleepless night.

He was in way too deep, way too fast.

“Kids!” was bellowed. “Your-” There was a brief pause. “Whoever they are are here and we’ve got decorations to hang! Get down here!”

“They’re here!” Mabel cheered, zipping out.

Dipper felt queasy, keeping his hands balled in his pockets as he followed her. Oh, man.

“Hi, Mabel!” Greg was already swept up in her arms and laughing by the time Dipper reached them. “You look beautiful!”

“We’re uh… we’re not too early, are we?” Wirt asked, his gaze sliding over to him as he noticed his arrival, color flooding his cheeks. Oh no, he looked good. Perfectly appealing to the eyes in the same way caressing a smooth, polished stone appealed to fingertips- no. No more poetry.

“Of course not!” Mabel twirled, her handmade frilled skirt flaring and spinning around her legs even after she’d stopped spinning herself. “We’re just about to set up!”

Grunkle Stan jerked his thumb in the direction of the gift shop. “Soos is trying to remember how that keyboard of his works again, and I’m starting to think Wendy fell asleep. So, Mabel, you’re in charge.”

“Yes!”

“Man.”

“Hey! No arguing. Just get some work done,” he ordered and headed for the stairs.

Mabel swung Greg onto her shoulders, bared by her wide collared sweater but for the tumble of her hair and the glittering straps of her tank top. “Alpha twin! Alpha twin!”

Dipper rolled his eyes and walked around her, ducking his head.

Greg watched him, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, but Wirt seemed to catch him and the dark look that he shot him had him changing tactics quite quickly. If that brother o’ his didn’t want him saying anything, then he wouldn’t! At least not on purpose. On accident was an entirely different matter and completely out of his control.

“So, what’s first on the to-do list, Alpha Twin Mabel?” he asked, folding his arms to rest them on top of her head.

“She’s not the alpha twin!” Dipper called back and Mabel giggled.

“I am,” she whispered to the boy on her shoulders and skipped by Dipper to get to the gift shop and the space for their party. It had taken quite a few hours to clear everything out, but as Mabel twirled in the middle of the room, she had to admit that it had been worth it.

“First order of business is party music!” she declared. “How are we supposed to start decorating for a party without the proper sound effects?” She scampered to the stage, Soos diligently studying the book explaining the intricacies of his DJ keyboard. Mabel hit two buttons and music started to thump, top forty hits blaring.

Wendy slid a magazine off her face, her legs slung over the arm of a couch that had been pushed up against the wall. “So he put Mabel in charge again, huh?”

Dipper only sighed, heading towards the closet for a ladder while Mabel demanded streamers.

With his worries slightly assuaged what with Greg thoroughly kept occupied by Mabel and the party planning, Wirt was able to break free of his self-involved bubble. Dipper was acting… odd. At least, odder than he’d been the first two days- as far as Wirt knew him at any case. He was distant, almost brooding, and while he supposed that being dubbed the beta twin could make one feel fairly disgruntled, Wirt had a feeling that Mabel being alpha twin wasn’t anything new. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure they mentioned something about it while in The Unknown, so he was pretty sure that had nothing to do with Dipper’s mood.

What then?

Even if he didn’t want to… pursue where his poetic musings wanted to lead him, he still wanted to be his friend and friends cheered each other up. Yes. So that’s what he’d do, it was a good plan. He wasn’t as good at cheering up others as Greg was, but it would be the thought that counted. Maybe something didn’t pan out in his research of those wereanimals? But that wouldn’t explain why he seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him-

He knew.

A strangled squeak of a gasp escaped him as he paled considerably. _He knew_. And now everything was awkward.

But how? Wirt pressed his palms to his face and groaned. He was just being paranoid. There was no way he actually knew. He’d only written the poem that morning and Greg hadn’t told him. So everything was fine. That wasn’t the problem.

“Wirt!” Mabel called, seeing an opportunity while they both looked miserable. “Help Dipper with the streamers! Me and my official new co-party planner have other duties to see to!” She swung Greg down and sprayed him with silly string, giggling.

“R-right.” Wirt swayed a little on his feet, then shook his head and walked firmly in the direction Dipper had gone.

Help him with the streamers. He could help him with the streamers and not mention that he’d written a poem about him. Of course he could. He didn’t have to say anything about this little… crush of his. Oh, crush didn’t sound right at all. Wirt took the time out of his internal panic to mentally berate the word. He liked him. He liked him a lot. Crush just wasn’t a nice sounding word. It wasn’t poetic.

“Though it is adequate enough a sentiment to ascribe to this quaking ache within my soul,” he acknowledged under his breath, even though he was standing next to people. “Crushed like crumbled autumn leaves scattered on this lonely path.”

Wendy socked his shoulder. “Deep, dude.”

Wirt stiffened, his eyes wide as his gaze darted to her, arms folding across his chest protectively. “Wha-? O-oh, uh... Yeah. Thanks? I think...”

She laughed, well-used to hearing people talk to themselves. Most notably Dipper, who was watching them out of the corner of his eye as he propped a ladder against the wall. “No wonder Dipper’s friends with you, man. He’s always-”

The male twin blanched. “Thank you Wendy pretty sure Mabel needs you,” he rushed out and she snorted.

“Nerd.”

“Freak,” he shot back and there was a moment of glaring before Wendy laughed again. Dipper blew out a relieved breath when she walked off, taking her embarrassing stories with her. But then he realized he was on his own with Wirt. Well, basically. With the others on the opposite side of the room and his irritating sense of awareness, they may as well have been alone.

“So, uh, the poetry thing... Still doing that?” he asked, then immediately smacked his forehead. Of course he was. Of _course_. It had only been months for him - why would that have stopped? “Wait. I mean. Duh.”

Wirt flushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, I'm still... sorry, I know it's kinda weird and that most people don't really like it. I'll try not to uh... do that.”

“I don’t mind. I mean, if stuff comes to you just... say it? I guess. I like it. Um.” Mortified, Dipper tucked two of the rolls of streamers Wendy had brought over under his arm. “Hold the ladder for me?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

He came up beside him, gripping the side of the ladder closest to him. Hesitant, he made to reach for the other one, but until Dipper started scaling the ladder it meant his arms would sort of be around him. Wirt just smiled nervously and gripped the one side with both hands. He'd adjust everything once he climbed up a rung. Yeah.

Why? Why had Mabel sent Wirt over and not come over herself like normal? He was cute and close and Dipper felt his lips curve into his own nervous smile. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and started up the rungs.

At the top, he started to tie streamers to the rafters. “So, uh, what’d you and Greg do today?”

“Oh. Well, uh...” Don't tell him about the poem. Don't tell him about the poem. “We had kind of a late breakfast at that diner with our mom and his dad before they headed out, then I took Greg for a walk around town just to, you know, get a good look at the place. Then we hung out back at the motel and got ready.” _Good, Wirt. Great, no mentions of poetry whatsoever._ He mentally patted himself on the back as he adjusted his  grip to keep the ladder steady, his gaze firmly on the rung at his eye level.

“And Greg watched a show about a duck and I wrote some poems.” _No_.

“Duck Detective? Mabel and I used to watch that all the time.” Dipper looked down, a little flustered by the strange combination of relief and disappointment that Wirt wasn’t looking up at him. But why would he, right? Stupid. “So what were the poems about?”

“Nothing! Summer! Stuff about summer and- and summer stuff!” he blurted out, lifting his gaze to try and see if he believed him or was suspicious or thought he was weird. “Just- you know, things I couldn’t really make sense of in my head and just came together on paper. And yeah, I’m pretty sure the duck was wearing a deerstalker and had a magnifying glass, so it was probably Duck Detective.”

Dipper blinked down at him. He did believe him, really, but there was something in the tone that had him wondering if it wasn’t quite the whole truth. “Uh. Coming down,” he warned, waiting for Wirt to sidestep before climbing back down - though he slid most of the way to quicken the process.

He couldn’t help reaching out, laying a hand on Wirt’s arm. “Look, man, you don’t have to tell me? I was just curious about- It’s stupid.” Dipper tugged at his hat, offering a smile. “I just wanted to know what inspired you, I guess. I mean, you seem as passionate about poetry as you do the clarinet. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.”

Wirt’s heart thudded heavy in his chest at even the light contact of his hand on his arm. The color in his cheeks deepened even though his sweater was there as a barrier because it was still nice. And he was being nice. Dipper was giving him an out. He wasn’t pressuring him to talk about it, even though he had to know something was up because he was smart - super smart and pretty gorgeous - and he wanted to tell him.

Wirt pursed his lips. He wanted to be open and honest, but…

“I am… I am passionate about poetry, I guess. I’m also really protective of it? Especially when I’m still working on something. It does have summer elements. My walk earlier today kind of inspired some parts of it. I’m just… still trying to figure the poem out. It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it with you, I would. I-” Wirt swallowed thickly, his returning smile small and hesitant. “I’d really like to. It’s just not ready. Yet. To be talked about.”

“Okay.” Dipper gave his arm a squeeze before turning his attention back to the ladder. “Back to work before the so-called alpha twin or whatever calls us out. You don’t really need to help, by the way.”

Wirt shrugged, posture and smile relaxing as he went to grab it, to carry it to their next streamer stop. “I like helping. I don’t mind. Besides, someone’s gotta hold the ladder, right? I mean with all the crazy stuff you do on a regular basis, being taken out by a ladder would be kind of an anti-climactic way to go, huh?”

“I’d have to come back as a ghost and just wreak havoc on all ladders everywhere. Seek my vengeance and all that.” Grinning, he propped the ladder and scaled it to tack up streamers. When the music was turned up, he nearly called out to make his sister turn it down until he recognized the song. And the band. His hips swayed unconsciously to the beat. “So what kind of music do you listen to?”

“Um…”

Wirt clamped his lips together tightly in an effort not to smile like an idiot. He was so cute. He glanced away then glanced back, really unsure of what he wanted to do at this point, and he needed to not get wrapped up in his own thoughts because Dipper had asked him a question, hadn’t he?

“I like, uh-” His voice squeaked and he had to start again. “I like older music mostly. Eighties and nineties stuff, old jazz music, symphonies, stuff like that. But I’ll listen to anything once, you know? Don’t want to write off things I might like without knowing for sure or not.”

“Exactly!” Dipper grinned down at him. Much of his discomfort and foul mood had been discarded, traded for his upbeat, curious one. He and Mabel had never been outwardly shy, after all, and he was genuinely interested in learning more about his fellow teen.

As monumental as shared experiences in The Unknown and as elemental as the attraction to a cute face, Dipper used his mind. He wanted to know what was in Wirt’s. “I never get people who plug in one genre and think ‘that’s it, that’s all the music there is.’ There’s, like, millions of things to listen to.”

“Yeah,” Wirt agreed, a full out grin unable to be kept at bay in the face of Dipper’s earnestness. “Or, like, when people feel that because they like a certain type of music, it means that they can’t like something else that’s completely different. I mean, it’s one thing if that’s honestly all that they like, but I dunno. I need some variety in my music, personally. Especially when I’m playing the clarinet. I like to try different things, see if I can pull it off or get into it. I can’t really make up songs off the top of my head the way Greg can, but I can find the notes of existing songs well enough.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. After yesterday - hey, coming down.” He slid down the ladder again, moving it to the next spot. “Anyway, after yesterday, it’s kind of obvious. I could never do that. Just listen to a song and be able to play it? No way.”

“Really?” Wirt blinked, stepping into place to anchor the ladder out of habit now. “Well… it’s just something I’ve kinda always been able to do? I’m not so good at sight-reading though. It takes me a while to get into it.” He tilted his head a little as he watched Dipper go back up to hang more streamers. “What got you into the sousaphone? I mean, did you decide that’s just what you wanted to play?”

“I don’t know. Well, I do, but...” He rolled his eyes, placing streamers. “It’s not really the best of reasons? I guess? My parents used to go all out with me and Mabel - the twin thing, you know? They kind of signed us up for all the same things, so I ended up in a couple of stupid dance classes and she ended up on t-ball. Stuff like that.

“But then she wanted to learn how to play an instrument when we started sixth grade because she loved the recorders in elementary school, and if she was going to be hauled off to music lessons, then I had to go too. I was really over having to do everything she did since she just has to try every single thing ever, so I picked the sousaphone so I could make as much ungodly noise as possible and maybe our parents wouldn’t make us do everything together.”

He shrugged, waving at Wirt to let him know he was coming down again. He had the rhythm now, so went faster. “They got the message, but she dropped the flute after two weeks and I stuck with making noise. What about you? Why clarinet?”

Imagining the kid he’d met in The Unknown putting up a fuss and acting all defiant about a musical instrument - a sousaphone no less, and all the ungodly noise that had surely accompanied it - had him grinning, thoroughly invested in the story until Dipper turned the tables on him. “Oh. Well, my mom- and my dad, I guess, they wanted me to try different things just to see if I was interested in them.”

Wirt shrugged. “I was signed up for soccer, Little League, some kids’ theatre group, and then music. None of the others stuck. I mean, can you imagine me playing soccer? I couldn’t even go up to a pinata at parties to get the candy, let alone into the fray of a bunch of five-year-olds kicking and clawing a ball that could fly up and hit me in the face.” He realized he was getting off topic and shook his head.

“My dad picked the clarinet because that’s what he’d played when he was younger. At first I thought if I got really good at it, he’d want to spend some more time with me, but when he left… I just kept playing and it helped. I found out that without the pressure of having to impress him, I could really lose myself in the music and it… it made me feel good. It was like the one constant I had in my life while everything else was changing. I always had my clarinet and I didn’t have to play it for anyone if I didn’t want to.”

His gaze wandered across the room while he held the ladder at the next spot, landing on Mabel and Greg huddled around their party hat-wearing pig and frog. “Luckily I don’t mind playing for others so much anymore,” he added, smiling up at Dipper. “It’s kinda nice to have an audience or someone to play with.”

“Yeah.” His gaze flicked to their siblings as well, but quickly returned to Wirt. Yes, he liked the cute face and couldn’t help smiling back at him, but his heart broke a little for the kid who’d wanted to impress his dad. And his mind was intrigued now, so he knew he was sunk. Cute, smart, funny? Totally sunk. “Anytime you want to play, I’m in. I liked watching you yesterday,” he added, fresh color tinting his cheeks, but he had to tell him. “You really lose yourself in it.”

Wirt’s blush matched Dipper’s. “Really? You liked it? It wasn’t… I dunno, weird or anything?”

“No, it was- Coming down.” He slid back to the floor, but tucked his thumbs into his belt loops and rocked back on his heels rather than picked up the ladder to move to the next spot. They were done with that wall anyway, and he wanted a minute to try and get some of these feelings out.

He was so dumb and sunk. “It was great. You’re pretty great. And, I mean, not just at clarinet,” he clarified. “You’re kind of - well, not kind of.” Why couldn’t he speak English when he wanted to? “You’re great. Just all around and- yeah.”

Dipper jumped a little when his sister called his name, and his blush deepened considerably when he realized she was heading towards them. Oh, man.

 

\----

 

Across the room, both her and Greg thoroughly covered in silly string, Mabel watched them with slightly narrowed eyes. Though this was good - they were talking, Dipper was smiling again - it hadn’t had the razzle dazzle she’d been expecting or wanting. Where was the obvious staring and the adorable blushing when one, or both, were caught staring?

Clearly, Wirt had quite a bit of willpower. She was sure she could break it down and get some of that staring going. She just needed to take advantage of Dipper’s bolstered mood before it slipped back into embarrassed sulking. Why he didn’t just go for it when he had a crush was beyond her, and she could see quite clearly that there was some mutual crushing going on and Wirt didn’t seem to be going for it either.

Boys were dumb.

She ruffled Greg’s hair, watching the two of them move the ladder. This time when Dipper climbed up, there was a little bit of staring. Good, but not great. It was time for great. Lips pursed, she darted to the stage to plug in her iPod and sought her Dipper Playlist. Some Bad First Impressions to start and then segue into the poppiest girl hits. She cranked the volume a little to be sure it carried over to them and bounced a bit when Dipper’s hips started to swish in time with the music.

“You get him, bro-bro!” she whispered and then grinned at Greg and Jason Funderburker. “I almost forgot! You said Jason Funderburker likes party hats, right? I have one for him! Waddles has one too.”

“Yeah!” Greg held up his frog happily, but he hadn’t missed the way Mabel had looked at their brothers, or the way she picked music that Dipper liked to dance to.

He stayed quiet on it while he followed her to where the party hats were, then let her pick out one that complimented Jason Funderburker’s skin tone nicely. When he strapped it onto his head, he set him down and stepped back to admire him. The frog croaked and blinked at him. It was beautiful.

“Are you trying to set the mood?” he asked, suddenly feeling like it was a good time to find out with the party hat and silly string situations more or less settled.

She laughed, rubbing her pig’s head and sneaking him a cookie as he curled up happily beneath the food table. “What do you mean?”

“I saw you watching Wirt and Dipper,” Greg explained. “And then you changed the music like you wanted to set the mood like they do in the movies. Is that what you’re trying to do? Do you want Wirt and Dipper to be in love, too?”

She gasped, then swept him up for a thrilled twirl. When he was on his feet again, she knelt down to just smile at his adorable baby face. “Yes! You’re so smart. Just don’t tell them what I’m doing, okay? Matchmaking is a very careful business.”

“Okay.” Greg grinned and gave her a thumbs up. “I can do that. I’m not supposed to tell Dipper that Wirt likes him anyway.” But he never said anything about telling Mabel, so clearly that was alright.

She had to bite back a squeal, settling for bouncing in place and giggling. “I knew it! I just knew it! Oh, they’re both really bad at hiding things.”

She placed a hand over her excitable heart, patting it to settle herself down some, at least enough to make sure Greg had the proper understanding of what they were up against. “You’re not bothered, though, since they’re both boys?”

Greg’s brow furrowed a little. “Well, if Wirt and Dipper aren’t bothered that they’re boys, why should I be?”

She leaned forward to rub their noses together. “You really are smart, Greg. Do you want to help me matchmake?”

“Does that mean I get to help Wirt not feel sad about writing poems about Dipper that he never wants to show him? Does that mean they’ll fall in love and live happily ever after?” Greg’s eyes widened with each possibility, his hands clasped together eagerly.

He’d written Dipper a poem? Oh, this just got better! Mabel ruffled his hair. “If we do this right, yes. The only problem is that you’re both leaving in a few days, so we have to act fast or figure out a way to keep together.”

Greg put on his most serious expression and punched the palm of his hand with his fist. “Yeah. Oh!” The seriousness vanished when he lit up with an idea. “One time when my dad’s car got a flat tire, we couldn’t go to school for an hour while he fixed it. If we let all the air out of all the tires of my parents’ car, we won’t have to leave for four hours!”

She bit back the giggle, considering the plan. “I think we’d get caught, and flat tires cost money to fix. We’ll keep it in reserve if getting them together quickly doesn’t work, but I think it should. What’s more romantic than a party? Bunch of people, dark rooms, music and dancing-” She gasped. “Dancing! I have a new plan for Keep Wirt’s Eyes on Dipper So He’ll Know He’s Cute, aka KWEDSHKHC. Hm. I may have to shorten that later, but it works for now.”

“I think Wirt already thinks he’s cute. He called him a breath of fresh air in his poem and I think he talked about his eyes being pretty, but it was hard to read,” Greg offered in an attempt to be helpful. “Does Dipper think Wirt’s cute, too? Do we need a… KDE… uh… WS… the rest of the letters plan just in case?”

Mabel studied her brother, lips pursed. They were smiling at each other again, which was wonderful. “No, Dipper definitely thinks he’s cute too. Alright, new plan name! OBWAFIL, or ob-waffle because why not? Our Brothers Will Absolutely Fall In Love. What do you think?”

“Ob-waffle!” Greg cheered. “It’ll be the best plan ever! Because it has waffle in it! We’ll have to be super sneaky, like spies, so our operation can be a success!”

“Naturally. But I have a stage for our plan in mind. Your job, should you choose to accept it, will be to make sure Wirt pays attention to Dipper while I’m making Dipper relax. His favorite song will be on in less than a minute, so the time to act is now! Can you do that?”

“Yeah!”

“Fantastic! Jason Funderburker, you stay with Waddles for the time being. Be our eyes on the floor!”

 _Rorop_.

She gave the frog a pat, and then Waddles for good measure before skipping across the floor. “Dipper! You have to dance with me!”

“What? Why?” There was already a blush on his face as she skipped over, and she had to bite back giggles since Wirt’s face matched. And they called her silly? Bah!

“Come on, Dipper! You know you won’t dance with me at the party - you never do.”

“You’re usually kind of busy, and a lot of people are at the party, and- No, Mabel, I’m not-” She dragged him by the sleeves of his hoodie, and he really regretted wearing that now, shooting a nervous look over his shoulder at the other teen. “Come on, Mabel.” He wasn’t going to dance! Not in front of Wirt! The thought was mortifying on so many levels.

His twin had timed this well, though, and the song she wanted to dance with him to started to pulse from the speakers. “One dance,” she insisted, grabbing his hands. She forced him to move, pushing his hands so his shoulders moved while he glowered at her. Undeterred, she pushed a little harder as the song’s tempo built. His hips moved, and trying to keep perfectly still did nothing but egg his sister on. “Where’s your party spirit, Dipper?!”

“Hiding,” was the dry response, but she huffed and let him go to dance without him. The guilt was immediate when she fixed him with a wide-eyed pout. Dumb sisters, he thought, and reached out to grab her hand and twirl her around. “One. Only one.”

“You got it!” she cheered, laughing as they fell into step with one another. Within seconds, just as she’d hoped, her brother was laughing. It was easy to tell which of the two was the better dancer, but Mabel knew how to make her brother look good and Dipper had fifteen years of being her twin to know what she wanted when.

They jumped, twirled, and just danced. And when Mabel started to sing along, Dipper betrayed himself and sang parts of the pop song with her. It didn’t matter that he look cool, and that’s what Mabel had wanted. She wanted him laughing and loose and free. He always overthought this crush business and it was really simple.

Have crush, be yourself with crush, tell crush you were crushing, see what happens next. Bam. Done.

If she had any say in things, and she certainly liked to think she did, then these two boys who were obviously perfect for each other were going to know that they were perfect for each other. When the song drew to a close, their fists collided and both were breathless and grinning. “Twins!” was shouted in unison, an old habit, and Dipper took a step back.

“Got your dance. Happy now?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed and leapt at him. He caught her easily, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around just to make her laugh. Only when he’d set her down did he notice the eyes on him. Wendy and Soos and Greg, yeah, but only one set mattered.

Though his cheeks reddened, he was still riding that high. Go with it. Hadn’t he told Wirt that in The Unknown? Sometimes, you just had to go with it. He lifted his cap, tipped it in Wirt’s direction, and grinned through the blush.

Heart pounding, Wirt had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide any and all signs of a traitorous, lovestruck smile. His entire face was burning, right up to his ears. He was out of his league. Dipper Pines was absolutely charming, in every sense of the word. He had talent in spades, he could talk to anyone easily and make them feel like they mattered, he could dance the way he wanted and care less what the world thought of him, and he… he thought he was great. Dipper thought Wirt was great and then went and danced and his smile was pretty much his favorite thing in the world and what was he supposed to do now?

He’d thought he’d been in trouble before. If this was any indication of how the rest of the night and the next day were going to go, Wirt didn’t stand a chance. _Oh, what tumultuous seas I have ahead of me, sails caught up in love’s unforgiving wind as I’m carried off course to thee._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ob-waffle is now in effect.  
> Brace yourselves for the adorable fail that is Wirt and Dipper.


	7. Chapter 7

By six the parking lot was largely full, teenagers and a handful of kids spilling out doors and lining up. Dipper sighed, flipping open his cash box and grimacing at the little _No change, No refunds_ sign his uncle had given him. He and Wendy both had one, Wirt snug between them at the little table by the front door. Wendy, though, would only be there until her friends arrived.

More people lined up on his side because, well, he ignored his uncle’s sign and gave people change for the cash they gave him. Wendy didn’t more out of laziness than greed, but people were well-versed with the way this particular place worked. Go to Wendy if you had exactly ten dollars, go to Dipper if you only had a twenty.

It was quick work, the math simple enough to leave his mind free to wander over to Wirt a lot more than what was probably necessary. Okay, definitely more than necessary, but there he was. People watching, or ducking his head to try and avoid people watching. Dipper leaned over, bumping their shoulders together. “You okay?”

Wirt nodded, hesitated, then bumped back a little. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I just didn’t expect this many people- not that I didn’t expect that people would come! Of course they’d come, but- I don’t know where I’m going with this.”

He rubbed the back of neck, very conscious of how close he and Dipper were sitting - and Wendy, too, though she wasn’t the one that was currently consuming his thoughts and she was too laid back to really make him feel uncomfortable the way anyone else probably would. He was also angled closer to Dipper, and had quickly discovered while sitting there that if he moved his knee just a little to the side it would brush against the other boy’s. He’d been trying not to do it again.

It didn’t help that there were a bunch of teens in front of him, staring at him. Wondering what he was doing there, what right he had to be sitting there. While people watching was a pastime that he enjoyed, he didn’t find the same solace in it when the people could watch him back.

So why was he doing this?

His gaze slid to the side and roved over Dipper as he counted out exact change quickly. He was in over his head, that was why. Sitting next to him was more than worth the stares, imagined or real, and if that didn’t sound ridiculously cheesy or cliche, then Wirt didn’t know what was. _Next thing I know, I’ll be making him a mixtape._

“Don’t worry. This is pretty much going to be everyone who shows.” Dipper glanced over, offered a grin since Wirt was watching him. He shifted in his seat as though uncomfortable, but let their knees touch. It was dumb and he was being dumb, but he hoped he wouldn’t angle away.

“Dipper!” someone called, her Korean accent as clear as ever. Two girls stopped at the table, the girl who’d called out lifting a camera and snapping a picture of them. “Mabel said you had friends visiting from Massachusetts?”

“Yeah. This is Wirt. Wirt, Candy and Grenda. They’re Mabel’s best friends. Greg’s inside with her.”

“Um… hi?” Wirt lifted a hand in an awkward wave, pressing closer to Dipper without really realizing it. “It’s uh- it’s nice to meet you.”

Candy snapped another picture of them, pleased by Wirt’s shy smile and the grin Dipper threw at him when he’d moved closer. Mabel hadn’t only told them about their presence, after all. OBWAFIL was a go.

Grenda jabbed a thick finger at the screen. “Facebook page.”

“Absolutely!” Candy agreed, then looked up to smile at them. “We will see you inside?”

“Yeah. In an hour or so. Pacifica’s showing up late as usual, but we’ll be in after that.”

“Good! Hi, Wendy.”

“Sup?” she said, but her attention was on the group approaching her while Mabel’s friends sped inside. “Yo, dudes!”

Dipper leaned over to Wirt to murmur, “Robbie, Tambry, Lee, Nate, and Thompson. Don’t worry about remembering their names. They’re all basically the same person.”

“O-oh?” Wirt blinked, fighting the pleasant shiver that prodded his spine at the closeness and the huskiness in Dipper’s voice. It crept along the back of his neck, urging him to lean in back, but as his eyes wandered to the older group of teens, his natural hesitance and need to be as unnoticed as possible settled like a stone in his stomach and anchored him where he was.

“Yeah. They’ve all kind of been Wendy’s friends forever. Robbie thinks he’s emo. Tambry actually is scene, and please show full amazement if she looks up from her phone. Lee and Nate are bros in the straight white guy way and not the blood related way. And I’m about ninety percent positive that Thompson has himself locked in and lost in the back of the closet since he’s the only one who has pretty much stopped acknowledging my existence since I came out.

“But, you know, don’t worry about it. Like I said. You probably won’t see them again except in passing.”

He looked up when he heard a click, then laughed. “What was that for, Tambry?”

“Nothing,” she replied, eyes on her phone as she sent out a mass text of the photograph she’d snapped of the two of them. _Confirmed_ , was all it said, but it was enough and she had enough people in her contacts list to boost the crap out of this. Mabel owed her.

“Alright, guys, party time for Wendy.” The redhead rose, stretching, and shoved her cash box towards Wirt. “Watch that for me?”

“Um. Sure.” He slid it over a little more, keeping his hands on it as if that would help him watch it better, then he looked over at Dipper. “Is it just me or do people keep taking pictures of us?”

“Grenda and Candy are always taking pictures. They got it from Mabel, but they also run- hang on. Let me just finish this, and we can talk better.” With Wendy gone, and so abruptly, the line had shifted entirely onto Dipper. The sooner he got through them, the sooner they could be alone. That thought had color sweeping to his face and he took a second to flick his gaze and a smile in his direction again.

Wirt smiled back, though he wasn’t completely set at ease about the photo thing. Fidgeting in his seat, knocking their knees together once accidentally and once on purpose - mostly to see if Dipper would notice the difference, to prove his paranoia wrong - Wirt glanced at the open space now available to him at the rest of the table. Should he scoot over? Give Dipper more space? Part of him acknowledged that it would be the sensible thing to do, but the part of him that was all a-buzz with Dipper demanded he stay right where he was. _You’re not going to get much else, so enjoy what you can have while it lasts!_ He had to agree with himself, even if it was embarrassing.

When the line finally dwindled and the Shack thumped behind them, Dipper flipped his cash box shut and sighed. “There, done. We’ve got at least fifteen minutes, depending on how late Pacifica’s really gonna be.” It made him feel stupid, but he was appreciative of the warmth the casual contact sent through him, so he angled on his seat to let their knees touch again.

“Yeah?” Hope blossomed in his chest, finally recognizing that Dipper was returning the little gestures. He was open to them. Smile shy, Wirt shrugged his shoulders and left his leg where it was. “So what do you want to do for fifteen minutes?”

A million things he didn’t currently have the confidence to say aloud. He propped his elbow onto the table, dropping his chin into his hand on a small huff as he sought something to talk about. His gaze traveled skyward, the moon nearly full, and frowned at his brain when it skipped back to the mystery on his hands. It was better than awkward silence and he was curious about an outside opinion.

“So I don’t even know if you’d care, but this has been bugging me all day. The werewolves weren’t in their den this morning when Mabel and I went to find out if they knew anything about the way the hares and foxes were acting. They never completely clear out. They’d lose the cave, you know?”

Wirt leaned forward, tilting his head curiously. “Maybe there was something wrong with that cave? Or maybe they moved to another den. I mean, it’s not uncommon for regular wolves to move dens every now and then.”

Dipper looked over. “True, but it just seems suspicious on top of everything else. I was thinking about scoping out the other weres tomorrow just to see if their habits are changing, but with you and Greg here... It can wait.”

“Are you sure?” Wirt’s nose scrunched as his brow creased. “If something weird is going on, we don’t want to get in the way of you figuring it out or anything. Well, _I_ don’t want to get in the way. Greg would probably be more than happy to get in the way and follow you on a were adventure.”

Oh, no. That little nose scrunch thing was going to kill him. His heart was going to go into palpitations or something ridiculous like that and he was just going to die. Dipper fiddled with the zipper of his hoodie, trying and failing not to just stare. “Maybe. I can give you and Greg some protection, and we both know Mabel wouldn’t let anything happen to him anyway. So maybe. If you want to.”

“Yeah. It would definitely be interesting.” Wirt raised an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t be a distraction or anything?”

He didn’t doubt Wirt would be, but sat up to bump their shoulders together. “No. There’s only a couple to find anyway, so we can figure out what to do after. I want to hang out while you’re here, you know? As much as we can, I mean.”

“Me too,” Wirt replied, sincerity ringing in his tone. “I’ve really liked this. Getting to see you… and hang out with you and stuff.”

“Yeah? Maybe we could-”

“Hey, nerds.” Pacifica sashayed up to the table, and Dipper blinked. He was definitely in too deep if he hadn’t noticed her limousine pull up. The blonde snapped her fingers, sending her two followers inside ahead of her and then rolled her eyes. “What’s up?”

Dipper glanced at his watch. “You’re not as late as you said.”

“Five minutes early is still fifty-five minutes late. Good enough for me.”

Wirt sat up straighter, nearly falling out of his chair in his attempt to appear casual. This was the girl that assumed they were boyfriends before he even realized he liked him. He didn’t want to know what her powers of observation could deduce now that he was basically tripping all over himself with how much he liked him.

Pacifica glanced his way, a brow arching finely. She’d noticed his near-topple and she’d been one of the ones to receive Tambry’s text. “You were at the diner yesterday. What was your name again?”

“Wirt,” Dipper supplied.

“Good god.”

“Really? Pacifica freaking Northwest is going to call someone out on their name? His is fine.”

She flicked the bill of his cap. “Alright, sure, fair point. So, seriously, while parentally assigned friends A and B are off, what’s up? Got a big mystery lined up yet or what?”

“Kind of. Maybe.” He shrugged. “I’ll let you know if it gets crazy. What about you? How’s Boston?”

“Fan-freaking-tastic.” She cocked out a hip, laying her palm on it so she could gesture with the other. “I go to a boarding school over there,” she explained for Wirt’s benefit. “Just through the normal school year, right, and this little nerd found it. He’s got this huge thing for Mass.”

Dipper tugged his hat down to hide his face, and she kept rolling. “But it’s awesome, great. My parents aren’t there, no one who knows me or them are there, and if I didn’t have to come back here for the summers, I would so not be here.”

“Okay. Uh. Have fun inside?”

“Please, Dipper, this isn’t about fun. This is about winning.” She flipped open a sparkling handbag, the designer label announcing its worth, and withdrew a bill from inside. The hundred was shoved at him, and he straightened.

“Wait-”

“Give me change, and I’ll break your wrist.” She flicked the bill of his hat again, then strode by to disappear into the party. “Bye, nerds!”

“Um… bye?” Wirt blinked, taken aback by the wave of personality that seemed to have crashed into them only to vanish in an instant. He spent a moment staring at the bill, then looked up at Dipper. “She’s certainly something,” he mused, then his lips quirked up on one side. “You know, you got pretty close. Boston’s not that far from us. It’s like an hour out.”

He’d checked every single county, city, and tiny town in the entire state for these two. If he’d known their last name - which, he reminded himself, he still hadn’t asked for - and if he’d known how different their timelines had been, maybe he would’ve found them sooner.

But Dipper shrugged and decided not to mention that. The bill was plucked up and tucked in the bottom of his cash box for Grunkle Stan to spaz ecstatically over later. “Where? I told Mabel you guys seemed small town, so... Was I right?”

“We’re that obvious?” Wirt snorted. “Yeah. We’re from Lakeville. It’s small, but it’s… I dunno. It’s nice. I don’t mind it.”

“Okay, yeah, so basically south of Boston. No wonder you and Greg ended up in The Unknown by almost drowning. There’s, like, five ponds. Well, lakes. I don’t know why they’re all called ponds when they’re technically lakes. I mean, one feeds into the Acushnet River, so-” He shouldn’t know this.

Dipper cut himself off because he shouldn’t be able to rattle off the geography of a town of barely ten thousand people. A town he’d never been to in a state he’d never been to. How pathetic and obsessive could he look?

Wirt laughed, one of his full, honest laughs, and he leaned into him. “We do have a lot of ponds, yeah. Boy. There should be some kind of warning label for the town. Though I suppose the name should be warning enough, right? But yeah, we fell into the Assawompset Pond. The big one over by the cemetery. I call it a lake still though.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t mind, so Dipper blew out a relieved sigh and then smiled. “I-” _I like your laugh._ “Uh. Do you want to go inside? I need to take the cash boxes to Grunkle Stan’s office since we’re done here.”

“Sure.” Wirt picked up the one that Wendy left in his care. “I should probably check on Greg, too. Though he’s probably having a blast trying to help Mabel win the party crown.”

“Probably,” he agreed, but regretted the suggestion when he stood. He supposed they couldn’t spend all night touching knees and sitting close, but he wouldn’t mind it. “We’ll go around front, drop these off so we’re not carrying them through the party, and then find Mabel and Greg. Okay?”

Wirt nodded, falling into step beside him as they headed for the front. Even though they were just walking with cash boxes, he enjoyed prolonging it just being the two of them. Once they entered the party, it would be the two of them plus the entire town of Gravity Falls it seemed. Though, now that the thought of checking on Greg was in his head, he couldn’t say he was entirely easy with having spent this long without him in his sight. The only thing that appeased him was the fact that he trusted him with Mabel. Still he was the big brother and he needed to at least make sure everything was going as well as he thought it was.

By the time they made it to the party, the battle for the crown was in full swing. The two girls were surrounded, taking up the floor with an intense dance battle. Mabel didn’t seem slowed down in the slightest, a wide smile on her face as she danced around with a seven year old on her shoulders.

Dipper rocked back on his heels, laughing. “Want me to get her attention so she’ll put him down?”

He did. Wirt pursed his lips, wringing his hands together as he watched the dance battle, specifically the huge smile on his brother’s face. He was fine, obviously. Better than fine, he and Mabel were clearly having a great time.

“No, that’s… that’s okay. They’re having fun.” Wirt waved it off. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt them. It’s fine.”

“It kind of obviously isn’t.” Dipper smiled, bumping their shoulders together. “Come on. I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty and we can keep an eye on Greg from the drink table. Mabel’ll put him down when she’s done.”

Wirt considered that, then nodded. He stayed close to Dipper as they navigated through the crowd to get to the refreshments. “Sorry,” he couldn’t help but add on their way. “Logically I know he’s fine and everything, but…”

“No, it’s cool. It’s actually- You’re different.” Dipper went around the table to get to the hidden cooler, grabbing two cans of pitt cola. “With Greg, I mean. When we met you guys before, you didn’t really seem to... get the whole sibling thing. You’re different now, though, and that’s really - It’s pretty awesome.”

Taking the one he offered to him, Wirt turned it around in his hands a couple of times, relishing the chill of the can against his palms. “I was really unfair to him before. I blamed him for things that weren’t his fault and I… I kinda resented the fact that he had this perfect little life, but he didn’t really. Even though he didn’t realize it, I treated him terribly. And I almost lost him because of it. I don’t… I don’t ever want to be the cause of something like that again. I want to take care of him. I want to be the good brother he sees in me.”

“Wirt...” He reached out, taking a hold of his shoulder. “You are, okay? You listen to him, you seem more willing to goof around with him, and you’re worrying about him even though he’s right there. You’re a good brother, man.”

Wirt blinked in surprise, not quite expecting the sincere vote of confidence, but as he relaxed under his touch, he managed a small smile and a soft, “You think so?”

“Wirt!”

Before Dipper could reply, Greg was bouncing over to them, having been set down just as he’d predicted. He grinned brightly, as if seeing his brother was just as fun as dancing had been. Wirt let go of his soda with one hand so he could reach down and ruffle Greg’s hair when he was close enough.

“Did you see us dancing? Mabel’s the best dancer!”

“Yeah, I did. It looked like a lot of fun,” Wirt told him.

Greg nodded, then glanced from Wirt to Dipper and back before tilting his head. “Are you having fun, too?” he asked, his own way of checking in on him in return.

Wirt couldn’t help but look Dipper’s way briefly before answering with a stronger smile. “Yeah, I’m having fun.”

“Good!”

“But you’re doing okay? Everything’s good?” Wirt pressed.

His younger brother nodded ‘yes’ to both. “Mabel needs my help for the next round so she can be the ultimate party master, but I wanted to come say hi first.”

Wirt flicked his gaze up to where the crowd was still gathered around Mabel and Pacifica. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from doing your job as the ultimate party master’s number one helper. You better get back in there.”

“Aye aye, Captain Wirt!” Greg saluted, then did the same to Dipper. “Have fun with my brother, Admiral Dipper!”

He laughed, offering a salute in return. Nice to know that he was still high ranking. “You got it, corporal. Good luck.”

Arms in the air, Greg laughed and ran back into the fray, squeezing past the other teens until Mabel scooped him back up into her arms. And into safety, as far as Wirt was concerned. He cracked open his soda and took a sip as he watched the next dance off commence.

“She is going to win, right?” Wirt asked, leaning into Dipper a bit as he gestured in Mabel’s direction with his soda.

“It’s a toss-up. The first year she didn’t, but then she did the year after. Lost again last year, though, so we’ll see.”

“How’s the winner decided?”

“The crowd and Soos. They’ll figure it out at the end of the night, which is usually around nine. And then Pacifica has her afterparty on her yacht. We don’t usually go.”

Wirt nodded. “Is uh… is that still the plan for this time?”

As much as he wanted to hang out with Dipper and Mabel, he wasn’t sure how comfortable he’d be on a yacht. With a bunch of strange people. On a body of water. Lots of water. And Greg wouldn’t know how to behave on a yacht. Greg would probably try to dive off the yacht.

“That’s probably going to be the plan everytime. The first year we weren’t invited because Pacifica was still nothing but awful, but she’s...” He wiggled a hand. “Less awful now. By a lot. We’ll probably end up going to her place later in the summer for the yearly ball her family throws, but that’s it. That’s all the Northwest I can handle.”

Mind set at ease, Wirt chuckled a little. “I can see that. I mean she seems… I wouldn’t say awful, just a lot? Like a lot of personality to take in. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“You only say that because you didn’t know her when she was literally the worst.” The second dance battle ended in what appeared to be a tie. Pacifica narrowed her eyes and Mabel just gave her a thumbs-up and a wide grin before flouncing off to return the dancefloor to the free for all their battles had disrupted.

Soos squinted at his DJ book. “Nice! Amazing throwdown, dudes! Both of you really brought the thunder!” He hit a button on his keyboard, puzzled when dogs barked rather than the thunderclap he’d been expecting. “Wait...”

“It’s the second one!” Candy shouted from off-stage.

“Thanks, dude!”

Dipper laughed and tipped his can back, taking a long drink. “Eventually, if Grunkle Stan ever figures out how to make Candy work for free like Soos, she’ll probably end up taking that over. Mabel would probably start winning every time then, but Soos plays fair.”

Wirt shrugged, smiling. “He’s got good energy, too. He seems really into it.”

“Soos is into pretty much everything. It’s why he’s cool.” He smiled back, finding himself swaying with the music. He didn’t bother to stop himself, but did bite the corner of his lip as he looked from Wirt to the dancefloor. Maybe...

No. No, no, no. He wasn’t going there. It wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t dance at the parties they threw or even the ones they were invited to, and he wasn’t going to try. It would blow up in his face. Why was he even considering it?

“Anyway, uh... Be careful, by the way, with the soda. Don’t actually swallow the pit part.”

Wirt almost choked mid-sip. “There’s an actual pit in here?” He gaped, holding the soda back a little to try and peer down the small opening. “Who came up with this?”

He laughed, unable to help it. “You’re so-” _Cute_. No. Dipper cleared his throat. “I have no idea, but it’s still good.”

Eyeing the can distrustfully now, Wirt was much more cautious with his sips. “Hm…” He narrowed his eyes when nothing seemed to happen, as if knowledge of the pit’s existence changed everything now. Glancing up at Dipper, he pointed at him. “I don’t have a will, but if I die choking on the pit in this soda, I’m leaving you my clarinet. Greg will try to fight you for it, but don’t let him win. He uses it as a magic wand and I won’t be able to rest in peace knowing that he has it.”

“I promise to keep it safe. You’d probably come back as a stage one ghost, and throwing holy water at you would be embarrassing for us both.”

“My step-dad tried throwing holy water on me once,” Wirt remarked thoughtfully, then grinned to show he was teasing. “He thought I was possessed because I was suddenly being nicer to him and Greg. So it wouldn’t be anything new.”

“Don’t tell him holy water’s not the sole, or most effective, way to exorcise something,” Dipper advised, chuckling at the imagery. He really was different than he’d been in The Unknown and, whether conscious choices or not, Dipper liked this version. Liked him quite a bit, and the crush was worsening the longer he hung around him. This was not good.

He passed his soda from hand to hand, watching the dancefloor as the song switched. Idly, he bounced in place, flicking his gaze to Wirt and back. Maybe. Maybe he could go for it, Just casually ask him to dance. How on earth did you casually ask someone to dance with you?

Wirt subconsciously swayed to the music, setting the half-empty can on the table as he hummed a little. “I know this song,” he murmured, almost proudly since he didn’t always recognize the more current songs of his generation, and turned to smile at Dipper, though it faltered as he took in the other boy’s nerves. “Hey, everything okay?”

“What? Yeah. Um. I’m fine. Yeah.” He set his own can down. Now or never. It had to be. “Do you dance? I mean, um, would you want to...?” Nope. No, he couldn’t do it. “Never mind. I- never mind. It’s nothing. I’ll be- I have to go do- I’ll be right back.”

Tugging his hat low to hide his mortified expression, Dipper quickly sped off. He just needed a minute, that was all. Just a couple of solid minutes away from the press of other people, and away from mumbled poetry, and away from his stupid bundle of emotions. He nearly collided with Wendy in his haste to flee, head ducked, and hands balled in the pockets of his jacket. What had he been thinking?!

“Whoa, dude, chill! What is _with_ you right now?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m fine, and so is everything else.”

She sighed gustily. “Alright, Dipper, spill it.”

“There’s nothing to spill!”

“Oh, come on, dude. You’ve got a crush. It’s all over your face.” He went pale fast, and she didn’t bother hiding her triumphant smirk. “It’s poetry guy, right? It’s gotta be poetry guy.”

“Oh my god. Is it obvious? Am I obvious? Oh, man, Wendy, does he _know_?” On a groan, Dipper buried his face in his hands and the girl punched his shoulder.

“Relax, loser, I’ve seen how you are with crushes. You’re kind of a total dork, but at least you picked somebody else who’s a total dork. He’s cute for a nerd, I guess.”

Dipper leaned against the wall, the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “He’s just cute period, okay? And it’s- I mean, nothing’s going to happen with it so I don’t know why I’m freaking out.”

“What? C’mon, Dipper, some of your awkward flirting is bound to get through to him. Just keep going.”

“No. He probably sees me as a stupid kid still, and that’s- Um.” His hands fell away so he could see the glare he felt.

“What do you mean? How did you even meet these guys anyway?”

“Don’t tell Grunkle Stan,” he began.

“Geez, dude, what’d you do?”

“We met Greg and Wirt... a couple years ago? Except Mabel and I were thirteen and they were... well, they were the same age they are now?”

“Were you messing with time again?” She socked his shoulder again, though the punch wasn’t nearly as playful. “What the heck, Dipper?!”

“It wasn’t on purpose, okay?” He couldn’t tell her the entire truth, so ducked his head and tugged off his cap. “And, well, Mabel and I didn’t even know the timelines were off until they showed up this summer? So it’s kind of been this really ridiculous roller coaster the past couple of days. I don’t know. It might just be that, right? It might not be an actual crush even though he’s really freaking cute with his breathless, nose-scrunch laugh and the way he just loses himself in his clarinet, and mumbles his poetry and- Oh, man.”

“Nope, sorry. You’ve got a full blown crush if you’re obsessed over his face when he laughs. You huge dork.” He made some sort of strangled sound, but she waved a hand. “Look, dude, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Trust me, it’s super obvious that you’re not a kid anymore.”

“I know, and he’s had more time to get to know that than I have, so-”

“So hang on. He knew coming up here that he was getting an older set of twins? Dude, that just destroys your argument right there! He can’t think of you as a kid if he already expected you to be his age.”

“He’s older, I think. Not by much, but... I’m pretty sure he’s older.”

“I think that’s your thing for older people talking.”

His face reddened, so he ducked his head and tugged the bill of his hat low. “At this point, it’s just kind of a Wirt thing. He’s just... cute and nice. I have to stop calling him cute. I have to stop using that word even though he _is_ and- and I’m so pathetic about this right now. Why are you even talking to me?”

“Because we both know that Mabel would literally mash your faces together and make you kiss if she knew this could be a thing, and I won’t?”

“I can’t think about that! Why would you put that in my head? I stayed up half the night thinking about his _laugh_ , and you’re going to put that image in my head? Thanks. Thanks a ton, man.”

With a shrug and a laugh, she crossed her ankles and leaned against the wall alongside him. “Look, Dipper, just go get him, okay? He’s not straight, is he?”

“Well... That’s-” He blew out a sharp breath. “He doesn’t like labels.”

“So not straight, or not completely straight. You’ve got some wiggle room, so take advantage of it and tell him you’ve got your big nerd crush. No big deal.”

“No. No, it is definitely a big deal. I-I can’t just tell him, Wendy! Look, they’ve only got a few days here. Maybe they’ll be here through the rest of the weekend? I don’t know. It’s not- I can’t just say it. There’s not enough time.”

“What? He’s not worth it?”

“No! I mean, he is. Like, wow, he’s a good guy. He’s a great guy. There’s just no way he likes me back, so it’d just ruin everything. I can’t make everything awkward. Mabel would be totally crushed if things got awful between me and Wirt, and then she wouldn’t be able to see Greg, and... And no. I can’t tell him. It’s stupid and selfish to tell him.”

“So you’re just going to spend the rest of the summer thinking ‘man, wonder what would’ve happened if I told poetry guy I like his face?’ Come on, Dipper. What do you really have to lose here?”

He was quiet for a moment, eventually lifting his hands in a shrug. “Him. I could lose him.” He winced when she hit him this time.

“You’re such a complete loser! But, okay, fine. I can’t make you say anything even though keeping quiet is a mistake.” She glared at him, rolling her eyes when his pout didn’t falter. “So what’re you doing out here anyway?”

“Um. I kind of, a little bit asked him to dance? But I mangled it. Pretty sure he has no idea what I meant, but I just had to get out.”

“So you did your nerd thing and then panicked.”

“Yes?”

“Dude.” The bathroom door swung open beside her and she straightened from the wall. “Listen, if you want to not have awkward, crap memories from this visit, go find him again and just hang out. Okay? You’re a cool dude, Dipper, when you’re not being totally lame. He’ll see that.”

“Maybe.” When she walked into the bathroom, he tapped his head against the wall a few times, squeezing his eyes shut. “Dipper Pines,” he muttered, “you are the biggest freaking idiot.”

After giving himself another moment, he straightened from the wall and tucked his hands back into his pockets. He didn’t know if Wirt would still be where he’d left him at the fringe of the dance floor, but he did know that Wendy had been right about one thing. He wanted some good memories of this visit, not just panicky encounters where he struggled to ignore the crush.

Maybe, for now, he’d just embrace it. There was still no chance that he was going to admit to anything, but he was willing to admit it to himself and try to behave normally around him rather than like a pathetic lovesick loser.

After Wirt left, though, it would have to be tucked far, far away and buried.

“It was about you.”

Slowly, Wirt edged around the corner into the hall. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were angled to a spot on the floor across from Dipper while he gripped one arm and rubbed it through his sweater. He’d heard it. Enough of it, anyway.

“The poem I wrote earlier today,” he clarified, flicking his gaze up to meet Dipper’s even as his uncertainty poured from him in waves. “It was about you.”

Dipper stilled, eyes going wide because he was loud, he knew he was loud, and even party sounds couldn’t drown out everything. So how long had he been there? How much had he heard? Oh, man. Everything was over. It was all ruined, and-

“About me?” he squeaked, the words registering, and then cleared his throat. “What, um, what do you mean?”

Wirt’s brow creased and he looked like he had half a mind to flee right then and there, but he somehow stayed rooted where he was. He exhaled shakily, rubbing his arm harder as he looked down at his mismatched shoes. He’d been so caught up in thought while herding Greg out of the motel room for the party that he’d grabbed two different shoes. Again.

He swallowed. “I wrote a poem about you because I couldn’t stop thinking about you because… I do. I do like you back. I think you’re great, too.” His gaze flicked up with one little burst of confidence to check his reaction.

“Whoa. What- I mean.” Dipper’s mind was a jumbled mess. Unsure of what to do, he tugged off his hat and raked his other hand through his hair. “Seriously? Like- I, uh, seriously?”

Wirt nodded, the color steadily draining from his cheeks as he watched him, though his heart still drummed loud and hard in his ears. “You… you did mean it, right? I wasn’t just… hearing stuff or- or it wasn’t a joke or anything? Oh my gosh… what if it was a joke? I didn’t think- I mean, it sounded like- Oh no. Oh, I read this all wrong. You’re weirded out. I’m sorry. You know what? Just uh… just forget it. Let’s- let’s pretend I didn’t just tell you that. Can we do that? Can we- I’m sorry.”  

“No! No way, man.” More panicked by the backpedaling, Dipper bolted for him and grabbed his hand. “I meant it! I mean- I like you. Like a lot? But-” He looked at their hands, but kept ahold to keep Wirt from going anywhere. “I’m trying to wrap my head around - I mean, this is completely embarrassing because I’m an idiot, but also pretty much awesome?”

“I’d say you’re more awesome than idiot,” Wirt replied, watching the way Dipper watched their hands, still shaking a little as his hopes warred with his serious doubts. “I guess I just don’t get… why me? I mean, how could _you_ like _me_? You’re like the total package, and I’m… not.”

“What? No, come on. I’m just- I’m not. You’re smart. You’re nice. You’re really cute. Like...” He lifted his gaze, unable to help the smile. “Wow. And, I mean, I just do. Okay?”

Wirt’s heart really did skip a beat. “I- wow. Um. Okay. Yeah, okay. This is… this is happening,” he babbled, squeezing Dipper’s hand for some kind of grounding. “You like me… and I like you.” A nervous laugh bubbled out of him. “I feel like we’re kind of cheating at the whole unrequited, teen roma- um… liking thing.”

“I’m okay with that. Being a trope is way more lame than this. It still sucks, though, since you’re...” He tugged his cap back on, smile faltering a little. “You’re leaving, and that’s the worst.”

“Oh… right…” Wirt’s brow furrowed, the realization like a smack to the face. “W-well… that’s... I’ll still be here tomorrow for sure, but…” But what about after?

His mind was jumping ahead of itself, keeping in time with the frantic pace of his heart, but they’d only just reunited. They’d only just realized they both liked each other. He didn’t even think he’d get this far! How was he supposed to figure out what to do after he left when he didn’t even know what he was supposed to be doing now?

“I’m sure we could figure something out. If, you know, you wanted to. But I get it. We’re on completely different coasts. I mean, we’re basically as far apart as we could get in the states, and- and this isn’t helping.” Wirt puffed up his cheeks, mildly frustrated with himself, and huffed out a breath. “I don’t… I don’t want to think about that right now.”

But it was a puzzle, and Dipper was very fond of them. Maybe they could stay longer. Maybe. Somehow. Motel rooms weren’t free, though, and he doubted his parents had any sort of unlimited budget. But he and Wirt could figure something out, couldn’t they?

Not if he didn’t want to talk about it, though. He’d just have to bring it up the next day or something. “Okay. Um.” He shifted their hands, holding his breath until their fingers laced. “What do you want to do?”

The color returned to Wirt’s cheeks. “Well… you did sort of… ask me to dance before you ran off. I’m not the best dancer- I mean, I don’t even really dance, but uh… this is a party and people… people are dancing.”

“You’re okay with that? I mean, everyone knows I’m- But no one knows you’re- you know, whatever. So... I mean, I want to. I’d love to. But... yeah.”

Wirt shrugged. “They can think what they want. I want to dance with you, too, and I don’t want to let what other people may or may not think stop that from happening. I’ve already spent most of my life worrying about other people noticing me, and even though I still don’t exactly want them to… it would be worth it. I think.” He laughed a little. “You know, I’m more worried about people judging my dancing more than who I’m dancing with.”

Dipper grinned, tugging Wirt towards the music and the dancefloor. “Don’t worry about them. Just dance with me.”

“O-okay.” His breath hitched a little, but he followed nonetheless and refused to let go of Dipper’s hand until they were right on the edge of it.

It took quite a bit of effort to not glance around him at the other party-goers Wirt found, despite his words. His gaze focused solidly on Dipper, on his smile, the way his hair curled from under his cap, and the fact that this brilliant mind and adorable face actually _liked_ him. It was still dizzying to fathom. The music beating beneath their feet and the dimmed lights of the dancefloor didn’t exactly help with the dizzy part either.

He could get into the music though. That’s all dancing was really. Getting into the music and getting into your partner, and Wirt was already incredibly invested in the latter. The actual dancing part would be no different than the way he moved along with the music when he played the clarinet.

“Okay,” he breathed again, smiling easier.

“Come on, Wirt.” Already moving to the beat, Dipper took both of his hands to encourage him to do the same. He stayed too close for the tempo, but couldn’t bring himself to move too far away or to let him go for long. He felt warm everytime and every place they made contact, and it was thrilling.

It didn’t matter that Wirt’s dancing was mostly long limbs and elbows, not when Dipper could grab onto him and guide him into the moves he wanted. It was nice to be able to. It was nice to be able to move together. It was amazing to feel the relief and excitement of being liked back as compared to the jittery nerves of uncertainty.

Nor did it matter that he’d be leaving soon when Dipper could grab his hands or squeeze his shoulders now. Or smile at him and get a smile or, heaven help him, that nose-scrunch laugh in return. They would take the time they had to just be two guys who liked each other.

And when the fast song ended, replaced by something slower, Dipper hooked his arms over his shoulders and laughed in his ear. “Not bad.”

“Are you kidding? I have, like, zero coordination.” But Wirt was laughing, too, even as his hands fluttered about nervously before settling on his waist. “Is… uh. Is this okay?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. It’s great.” His fingers curled into Wirt’s sweater, a little possessive and a little awed that he could stay this close and sway. “I’ve never actually danced with anyone at one of these before, so if Mabel sees us, don’t let her drag me away. I’d rather stick with you.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Stuck with me you shall be.” Wirt grinned, ducking his head as his arms tightened around his waist. “You’ve really never danced with someone at a party? How? You’re really good. You make it so fun and easy to get into.”

“I’m not that good,” he denied, pressing just a little bit closer. “I just go with it. But there was just never anyone I wanted to dance with at any of the parties I’ve been to, that’s all. I liked this, though. I like that you’re kind of shy, but did this anyway.”

“Yeah, well…” His grin softened as his cheeks turned pink. “I liked this, too. It… it isn’t so hard to dance when it’s with you.”

“Good.” Dipper tilted his head back, smile turning just a little wicked. “So do I get to read this poem or what?”

Pink blossomed into a deep red as he averted his gaze, pulse jumping at the sight of his smile. “You- you really don’t want to. Trust me. It’s- my poems don’t really have a filter? I mean, I guess if you really wanted to, I’d think about it, but no. No. Never. I’d like it if it was never. You’d like it if it was never.”

“Come on, man. How is it fair that you tell me you wrote a poem about me, but won’t let me read it?” One hand slipped up, fingers tangling in the base of Wirt’s hair. “Please?”

Wirt shivered and swallowed. His fingers curled against Dipper’s waist, gripping the hem of his sweatshirt. His head was tingling from the light touch. It was decidedly unfair and Wirt had no idea what to do about it.

“M-maybe.” He pursed his lips, cheeks puffing up as he gave in a little. “I’ll think about it. I kinda crumpled it up and threw it in my clarinet case, so I’d have to rewrite it on a new sheet of paper for you.”

“‘To have great poets, there must be great audiences,’ right? I have no idea who said that, but I can be a great audience.” But he let it and, reluctantly, released Wirt as well as the song ended. Almost. He took his hand again, grinning. “Do you-?”

A squeal cut him off and he winced, gripping Wirt’s hand a little tighter as he was tackled by his twin. “Ob-waffle!” she squealed.

“What?”

“I think she wants waffles?” Wirt guessed, eyes wide at her sudden arrival, and left his hand in Dipper’s as he scanned the crowd for Greg. He knew Mabel wouldn’t leave him on his own, but he still didn’t relax completely until he saw his little brother toddling after her

She babbled wordlessly at them, gesturing excitedly to their hands and then to the two of them in general. “I saw you dancing - you were _dancing_! Dipper, you actually danced and this is the best thing!”

“Jeez, Mabel.”

Wirt rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… we did dance,” he agreed squeakily. “I still don’t know what that has to do with waffles.”

“It’s a secret!” Greg told him, then pointed at their hands. “So you told Dipper how much you like him?”

Warmth flooded his cheeks. “Yes, Greg.” Though if he hadn’t, then the cat would’ve been out of the bag at this point, wouldn’t it? Not that he was going to take the time to explain that to Greg now.

“Did you tell him exactly how much?” he pressed and Wirt did give him a firm look at that to which the younger brother shrugged. “I can’t help it if I want all the details.”

“Me, too. I am also interested in all the details.”

“Mabel, cut it out.” He edged away from her and closer to Wirt, color rising. “We just- We like each other - oh, man- and we danced. There. That’s all you need to know.”

“So it’s a thing, right? This is a thing? I’m thinking there’s a thing.” She tucked Greg in front of her as dancers swung by, leaving her hands on his shoulders protectively, but she was all smiles as she looked between the two older boys.

“It’s a thing,” Greg confirmed, grinning up at her. “Wirt only writes poems about people who are important to him on a deep level.”

“ _Greg_!”

“What? That’s what you said!”

Dipper laughed, swinging their joined hands. “I’m okay with that.”

Wirt glanced at their hands, then at Dipper. “Yeah?”

“See? They’re a thing.” Greg folded his arms across his chest and lifted his head proudly.

“Such a thing!” Mabel agreed, fighting against the urge to drag them both into a hug. Well, all of them. She wouldn’t leave Greg out of a group hug. “You guys are completely adorable.”

“Yo, Mabel!” was called from the stage, Pacifica poised and ready to kick on the karaoke machine. “You trying to lose this thing or what?”

Torn between karaoke and continuing to fawn over their adorable brothers, Mabel bit her lip and glanced between the two. Dipper decided for her. “Go away. Wirt and I are getting out of here and going up to my room. I mean, if you want to,” he tacked on.

Wirt nodded, a bubble of relief rising in him. “Yeah. I could um… use a break from the crowd,” he replied, squeezing his hand.

“Okay. Come on, Greg. We’ve got a crown to win!” She swung him up and back onto her shoulders, then bounced over to throw her arms around their brothers for a quick squeeze before scrambling towards the stage.

Dipper blew out a breath, leading Wirt through the crowd to flee to the only quiet part of the house. Wendy caught his eye as they were leaving and shot him a thumbs-up. He only shrugged and gave Wirt’s hand a squeeze. “So what kind of movies do you like?” he asked. Details were important, and he wanted them all. His natural curiosity demanded it, and his simple interest in getting to know him better didn’t help at all.

Thankfully, he didn’t need it to. Wirt smiled and shrugged, but gave him the answers. It was nice. It was great to have someone give him answers and satisfy his curiosity, and it could definitely be a thing. Maybe it could even be a thing a continent apart.

 

\----

 

The party was long over by the time Wirt and Dipper were summoned back downstairs, partially because they were both hungry, and partially because there was cleanup to get to. Dismantling a party was far less fun than putting one together and, by the end of it, Dipper kind of just wanted to sprawl on the freshly mopped floor and lie there for a while.

After a moment’s pause, he went for it. The disco ball was still spinning in lazy circles, but no one wanted to take it down. He smiled at the final remnant of their party before closing his eyes. It had been, hands-down, his favorite one ever.

Wirt watched him with a soft smile, a trash bag of crushed soda cans in one hand as he cradled a sleepy Greg - who refused to admit to being sleepy - in his other arm. It had been a good party. Wirt crossed the room, stepping right over Dipper on his way to recycle the cans.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he told him lightly.

“Too early for that.” He waved a hand, but squinted at the sound of the bag. “Hang on. Don’t go outside this late on your own. We kind of butt up against the gnome forest and Sev’ral Timez members like to dig through our trash.”

Wirt raised an eyebrow as he hiked Greg up a bit when he mumbled something into his shoulder. “It’s too early for sleep, but too late to take out the trash?”

“Dipper stays up past midnight every night because he’s dumb.”

“Busy,” he corrected, jabbing a finger skyward. “The correct word is busy.”

“Dumb,” she repeated and the twins stuck their tongues out at one another. Pleased, Mabel removed the party crown from her head and settled it atop Greg’s. “I’ll take care of it. Sev’ral Timez loves me and... Well, so do the gnomes, but I know where the leaf blower is.” With that bit of disconcerting knowledge imparted, she took the trash bag and skipped to the door, flinging it open without a second thought.

And then she squeaked and took a quick step back when she saw who was on the other side. “Oh, ew.”

“Why, Mabel, darlin’. I wasn’t expecting you at all.” Gideon Gleeful tapped his fingertips together, genuinely delighted to see her in a mad sort of way. His excessive pompadour was brushed back. “So lovely to-”

Dipper was up and at the door in seconds, slamming it without preamble directly in the thirteen year old’s face. “No, thanks, bye!”

Mabel mimed a gag. “I’ll take these out tomorrow.”

Greg jolted awake at the slam, he and Wirt both blinking at Dipper’s reaction. “Is it New Year’s yet?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Uh…” Wirt’s brow furrowed, ignoring Greg’s question for the time being in favor of asking one of his own. “Who was that?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ll remember because I didn’t talk about him that much, but-”

“Dipper Pines!” the boy shouted from the other side of the door, striking the wood hard enough to rattle its hinges. “You! Wretched! Piece of slime!”

He sighed, flicking the lock on the door for good measure. “Blahblahblah.”

“Are you ignorin’ me, boy?! I will make you regret this as much as I will everything else you’ve done to me! I will destroy you! I will destroy this Shack _again_ , and I will make you rue the day you crossed me! Mabel, darlin’, that still excludes you, though you are starting to get on my nerves just a mite.”

Dipper rubbed his temples, leaning against the door when Gideon hit it again. “Do you hear me, Pines?!”

Wirt bristled, his eyes lined with concern as he held Greg closer. “Is he serious?”

“Uh... Sort of?”

Mabel nodded, patting her brother’s shoulder. He wanted to keep them from it, and that was okay, but they should know the truth. “Our first year here he blew up Grunkle Stan’s safe, stole the deed, and tore down bits of the Shack. This is almost like Mystery Shack 2.0! He also tried to kidnap me a few times, he almost killed Dipper until Dipper punched him in the face and broke his giant robot thing, and he’s been in prison since then! Except when he escaped. Both times he escaped.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wait, wasn’t he supposed to get five years of solitary?”

“I don’t remember. I’ll look it up, and give Sheriff Blubs a call in the morning.”

“Wait, wait. This guy’s an actual felon?” Wirt squeaked, looking at Dipper. “You punched a felon in the face?”

“Whoa! I want to see a felon!” Greg gasped excitedly, wiggling out of Wirt’s grasp to jump to the floor, darting over to the window. “He looks like a show pony,” he mused, cupping his hands on the glass as he squinted out into the night before Wirt pulled him away.

Mabel laughed, delighted by the description. “Yeah, he does.”

Dipper straightened from the door and flicked off the porch light to send Gideon running. Him being around was the last thing he wanted or needed. “He used to be more of a threat when he had the second journal, but I’ve had that since we were finally able to prove that his whole psychic act was a total fraud and he was arrested. And since his whole family was pretty much driven out of town, he’s got nothing here. He’s not a threat anymore.”

“I don’t know, it sounds like he’s really out to get you guys,” Wirt murmured, wrestling to keep Greg from bolting for the door next to “talk to the felon.” He didn’t have to fight him very long, the seven-year-old still pretty tuckered out from the party, and his energy dropped quickly enough.

“Not me, just Dipper and Grunkle Stan. He just wants to date me, which is so much worse.” She shivered. “So much.”

“I think they’re both pretty bad options.” Dipper shrugged, flipping back on the light to check out the window and make sure Gideon had run off. “Okay, he’s gone.” But so was his calm. Dipper bounced a bit before beginning to pace, muttering under his breath.

“He’s going to do that a while.” Mabel smiled fondly at her brother, leaving the bag of cans by the door so it would be remembered the next day. “Were you guys going back to the motel tonight? We’ve got to figure out how to do that if you were. Or you can stay here!”

“Oh, um… I was just going to walk back,” Wirt replied, casting a nervous glance outside. While he didn’t so much have a problem walking around the trees in the daylight, at night the darkened forest reminded him more of the eerie depths of The Unknown than ever. And with a crazed, child-felon out prowling about, too... “Our mom and Jonathan won’t be back until late. Like after midnight or something.”

“You’re not walking by yourself this late,” was said in unison, the twins exchanging looks, then nods. Dipper resumed pacing and Mabel spread her hands out.

“We could drive you back in the Mystery Cart or the car. Or you can stay here!” she repeated and reached out to poke Wirt’s cheeks. “Greg’s tired anyway, and a sleepover would give us more time to spend together before you go home. Right, Dipper?”

“Yeah.” Did Gideon have anything to do with the werebeast behavior? The second journal did contain their secrets, after all, but had Gideon discovered the secret of invisible ink to learn everything the journal had to offer? He needed to start writing this down, he decided, turning to head for the stairs.

Abruptly, he stopped and blinked at his twin. “Wait, what did I just agree to?”

“Wirt and Greg staying over!”

“Oh. Um.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s up to Wirt.”

Wirt blushed, fidgeting under the three pairs of eyes all looking to him. “Uh… isn’t it up to your uncle? I mean, I don’t want Greg and I to impose or anything…”

“I want to do a sleepover!” Greg piped up, tugging on his arm. “I’ve never had one! Except at Grandma’s and that one time at the hospital, but that doesn’t count.”

“Of course it doesn’t count,” Mabel agreed, deciding the matter was settled. She slipped Greg from his brother easily, nuzzling him. “You can stay in my room, okay? Dipper stays up too late. Waddles, bed!” The pig trotted out, muzzle covered in crumbs from the food he’d been given that night, and made a beeline for the stairs. “Now where’d that Jason Funderburker hop off to?”

“He’s probably looking for a light so he can be warm. I bet he’s in the kitchen,” Greg piped up, then pointed in a random direction. “To the kitchen!”

“To the kitchen!” she agreed. “I have a lamp we can let him use on my desk. And blankets, of course. Maybe a sweater.”

Dipper watched them go, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Okay, then. Um.”

Wirt hugged his arms to his chest and rocked on his heels. “You’re sure this is okay?” he asked.

“Grunkle Stan won’t care. He never does. So... yeah, this is okay. I’m kind of just trying to figure out how to tell you that you can share my room without it being super awkward. And-” He blinked, then dropped his face into his hands. “And that wasn’t the way to do that at all.”

Wirt’s smile came unbidden as he shuffled over to him. “I wouldn’t say that was _super_ awkward,” he told him, bumping his shoulder with his own. “Maybe just a little awkward. But only a tiny bit.”

“Shut up, man. It wasn’t even a question. I’m just rambling at this point. My head’s like-” He waved his hands around, not quite able to explain. “I’m getting more pieces in this puzzle, and I’m trying to fit them together but nothing’s connecting.”

Wirt blinked, dropping the teasing for the time being. “What do you mean?” he asked, canting his head to the side. “Like, the werewolf puzzle?”

“All the weres are in the second journal. Gideon had the second journal. If he’s back, the weird behavior could be related. I need to start a board.” He started up the stairs, but quickly came back down and grabbed Wirt’s hand. “Let me bounce ideas off you?”

Even though it wasn’t the first time they’d held hands that evening - and he really hoped it wouldn’t be the last - Wirt still flushed darkly as he nodded. “Uh-huh. Yeah, sure.”

It was easy to flirt when he knew where they both stood, so Dipper squeezed his hand and started up the stairs. “You’re really going to have to stop doing that. My brain doesn’t work right when you’re cute.”

“Cute?” Flustered, Wirt sputtered as he was dragged up to the attic after him. “What? I’m not- but- I’m not doing it on purpose!”

Dipper only laughed, closing the door behind them so he could get to work.


	8. Chapter 8

Dipper pushed the kickstand down on the old bike, listening carefully for any signs of werebeasts. Specifically the wolves. Though he and Mabel had come the day before, they hadn’t looked around like they should have. He could really only blame himself for it, himself and his distracted worrying.

He was still distracted, but he grinned when Wirt stopped beside him. “They haven’t come back here or we would all know by now. Just keep an eye out for anything that seems wrong or off.”

Mabel stopped at his other side, retrieving Greg from the basket so he could help. “Like if I see a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hands?” he asked.

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “Greg, why would you even think that’s something you’d see?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. They do it in the ‘Werewolves of London.’” Greg patted his stomach and puffed out his cheeks. “And he’s gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein!”

“If you see any of those things at all, that counts as weird,” Dipper assured him.

“Come on, junior detective, we have clues to find! You too, junior detective Wirt!”

“Coming- wait, what?” Wirt’s brow furrowed and he bristled. “I’m still a junior detective?”

“That’s okay, Wirt. So’s Jason Funderburker!” Greg attempted to console him, holding up their frog who absolutely demanded that he come today under no uncertain terms, provided that Greg keep a tight hold of him the entire time.

“That doesn’t help at all,” Wirt replied dryly. “But thank you for trying.”

“You’re welcome!”

“You probably won’t be a junior detective for long,” Dipper teased, grinning.

The look Wirt shot him was very unimpressed indeed, but he bumped his shoulder nonetheless and let the subject drop. Glancing around at the towering trees, his heart picked up a little. It was a little like deja vu. These were completely different trees, though, he assured himself, but stuck close to Dipper and Greg. He focused on looking for the clues Mabel demanded they find, his eyes drawn to the shadows in the woods. All the air in his lungs whooshed out of him as he snapped to attention. For a moment he swore he saw an Edelwood tree.

“Different trees,” he muttered under his breath once he got it back, shaking the feeling away. “Different trees, different trees.”

“Hey, relax.” Dipper passed him a flashlight and withdrew his portable blacklight just in case. “Come on. We’ll look inside, okay? I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, and Mabel won’t let anything happen to Greg or Jason Funderburker out here.”

He blew a long breath and nodded, taking the flashlight gratefully. “Right. Okay. I’m good, I’m okay.”

“And I’m Junior Detective Greg! Explorer and adventurer extraordinaire!” Greg declared, pumping his fist in the air. “Forward march!”

“Sideways march!” Mabel corrected and squatted down, tugging Greg close. “Ob-waffle,” she whispered and winked. “Let them look inside and we’ll explore out here for clues.”

Greg gasped delightedly, then clamped his hand over his mouth. “Ob-waffle,” he agreed in a hushed voice, holding up his fingers in the a-okay sign before patting Jason Funderburker on the head. “Sideways is definitely better for exploring,” he said louder.

“Just be careful,” Wirt warned, his eyes unable to keep from wandering up the trunks of the trees around them once more before focusing on Greg. “Stay with Mabel.”

“Captain’s orders?”

“Captain’s orders.”

Dipper glanced over. “Mabel-”

“I know what to look for.” She pulled out one of the spray bottles, this one full of a silver concoction. “And I’ve got this. We’ll be fine. Shoo-shoo.”

Dipper nodded, and the two quickly fist-bumped before he grabbed Wirt’s hand. “Come on. At least we’re not going in here running from a huge Frog Fly this time.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Wirt huffed out a laugh as he laced their fingers together, just for that little extra assurance that they couldn’t be separated so easily. “That’s not exactly an experience I wanted to relive any time soon.”

“I’m keen on reliving it never.” Dipper led the way, as was his habit, and held up his blacklight to the walls. The author’s handwriting glowed blue - _I hope you brought your silver._

“Let’s go. Maybe someone’s here that just doesn’t want to show themselves. I still can’t figure out why they would all leave at once when they’ve been here for years.”

“Maybe something scared them off. Fear can be a pretty good motivator,” Wirt chipped in, shining the flashlight ahead of them to illuminate their path. “I don’t particularly want to imagine the kind of creature that could scare off a werewolf though.”

“Weres are more and less than what the movies say they are.” Dipper gave Wirt’s hand a squeeze, making sure to keep a half step ahead of him the way he would do for Mabel or anyone else important enough to protect. He, too, didn’t want to think of what could’ve scared them off if that was the issue. He’d seen no signs thus far of such a thing, though, but he hadn’t seen signs of the alchemy the journals had either. “We’ll be fine.”

Wirt glanced at what he could make of his countenance in the dim lighting. There was his curiosity, of course, but also focus and determination. A lot of it reminded him of the last time he’d been in a cave with this boy, both months and years back from now at the same time. It was enough to give anyone a headache, but somehow he’d swallowed it. As prepared as he’d been for this, having watched plenty of current videos to assist in that, it still surprised him a little to see the similarities and the differences in the boy he’d met then and the boy he was with now simultaneously.

“I know,” he replied, and he honestly did believe it. “I trust you.”

Something in the tone had Dipper pausing, glancing up those extra couple of inches to search his eyes. They were shadowed, the flashlight too dim, so he let the tone be enough and gave his hand another squeeze. “You want to know why I thought you were dead?”

Wirt’s eyes widened, not quite expecting that turn in their conversation. “Um…” He cleared his throat a little. “Well, it… it made the most sense, didn’t it? I mean… you knew it was more or less the afterlife.”

“It made sense, sure, but not the most sense. You blocking it out would make sense. You just not remembering as clearly as Mabel and I made sense. You convincing your six year old brother that this near death experience was all a crazy dream would make sense.

“I didn’t think you were dead because it made sense, man. I picked dead - picked it, chose to believe it - because I couldn’t any of the others. I didn’t see it in you to block it out, to forget, to lie. You promised me that you would get that page back when you got home, and I believed that. I believed that there was nothing less than death that would keep you away. So I trust you, too, Wirt. I trust you a lot.”

“Dipper…” Wirt’s brow furrowed, his lips pursed to keep them from trembling even if the other boy couldn’t see it. “That’s…”

He squeezed his hand back, the poet unable to find the words. Such was his life. When he needed them most they evaporated off his tongue. What could he say? He’d had to wait two and a half years for him to make good on a promise, trusting that he’d do so based off of knowing him for a few hours at most. A version of him that Wirt wasn’t entirely proud of. Although, he supposed that same him was the one that didn’t hesitate to pull Dipper to safety from a rockslide, with zero consideration of the dangers that might have befallen him to do so. He could’ve gotten his arm or hand caught, something could’ve gone wrong. He could’ve failed to save him.

He remembered the overwhelming weight of responsibility for him well, even before he really understood what responsibility was. Still, would he have considered himself trustworthy? That Wirt might’ve, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“If it’s within my power, I won’t ever make you feel like you have to pick dead again,” he told him. “Even if it means you trust me that much, you still shouldn’t have had to. You shouldn’t have had to carry that on your shoulders for nearly three years.”

“No, but it’s not like it was your fault. It’s The Unknown. It was a time paradox thing. I’ve screwed up time - Mabel and I took a calculator to the pioneer days once. So I know that time just messes things up. I’ll always trust you. Unless you do some major screwing up in the future, but I don’t think you will. You’re not like that. You weren’t then when you didn’t give yourself enough credit, and you’re definitely not now.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault and that it was time, but… I still don’t like that you had to feel like you failed us,” Wirt murmured.

“Look, it can’t be changed. I’m not mad about it.” He stopped, turning into Wirt and pulling him into a hug, fingers tangling in his hair. “I’ve done a lot of stuff in almost three years, okay? I don’t know if I would’ve done all of them without that over my head. Stuff happens. Like the worst stuff can happen, and the best stuff can come out of it. You’re here now, man, and I’m really glad that you are. That’s what matters. Okay?”

Wirt started, his heart leaping into his throat as they pressed together. His arms instinctively went to hug him back, hesitating at the last second. He had a point. Without going through what he had, would Dipper be the person standing in front of him now? Would any of them? Without the weird glitch in time, he never would’ve even met him. He breathed him in, closing his eyes as he steadied his resolve and tightened his arms around him.

“Okay,” he accepted, letting the what-ifs and what-could’ve-beens lie in the corners of his mind. “I’m really glad I’m here, too.”

Dipper nodded, relieved by the words and the returned embrace. He withdrew sooner than he wanted to, offering a smile. “Let’s keep going. You’re never going to bust out of junior detective status if we don’t find something.”

Wirt laughed, the light from the flashlight between them enough to illuminate the wrinkle of his nose. “Oh, man. You’re right. I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if Greg surpassed me in rank.”

There wasn’t much to see, it seemed. Even with the flashlight and the blacklight, it just seemed like an ordinary cave after that first eerie message. Apparently werewolves didn’t do much to spruce up their dens. There definitely weren’t any signs that anything had ever lived here at all.

Until Wirt took a step and something crunched under his shoe. The flashlight had been canted to the left, away from him and more towards Dipper since he’d been leading ever so slightly, so he hadn’t seen whatever it was that he’d walked right into. A strangled sort of yelp was wrenched from him as he jumped back, taking Dipper with him since their hands were still connected as he fumbled with the flashlight.

“What was that, what was that, _what was that_?” he whispered frantically, half-afraid of actually seeing what it was because it was probably bones. He’d stepped on some bones. “They’re bones. They’re bones, aren’t they? Some poor innocent victim’s dried out remains now crushed to dust- and I _stepped_ on someone’s _bones_!”

He angled his body towards Dipper as he shone the flashlight where he’d been, prepared to hide his face against his shoulder since both hands were otherwise occupied, prepared for the worst-

“Sticks?” All kinds of shapes and sizes of sticks. They littered the ground and some were, incredibly, impaled in the stone walls. “How...?” Dipper grabbed Wirt’s wrist to move the flashlight, but stilled and moved the light away again when he saw the ugly splatters of red. “Let’s... Let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”

The calm that had settled on him when it had only been sticks vanished instantly. “Is that blood?” he breathed, feeling his knees wobble unsteadily. “Oh my gosh… Greg. We- we need to go find them.” He tugged on Dipper, dragging him the way they came as he backpedaled.

_Mabel_. “Yeah, we do.” Neither led, clinging to each other and worry over their siblings as they quickly exited the former den. They nearly ran right over each other, though Mabel and Greg looked more excited than worried.

“Okay, so, we found- What’s wrong?” Immediately in tune, Mabel grabbed her brother’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Are _you_ okay?” he demanded in return.

“Yes?” She didn’t argue when Wirt took Greg from her. “What’s going on?”

“Wirt?” Greg touched his brother’s pale cheek with worry, then immediately returned the hug that he was engulfed in, letting Wirt squeeze him as much as needed to.

“I’m fine, Greg,” he choked out, looking over the younger boy’s shoulder at Mabel and slowly shook his head. He didn’t want Greg to hear.

Leaving her with Dipper to let him fill her in, Wirt carried him a little ways away, over to the bikes. He took a few deep breaths, feeling Greg rub his back to comfort him and Jason Funderburker squirming between them and his heart swelled with affection and relief. He was fine. Nothing had come to slaughter him in the forest while he hadn’t been watching.

“Wirt?” Greg tried again, his voice quivering. “Did something scare you?”

“Yeah,” Wirt breathed, nodding as he set Greg down and knelt beside him to be at his level. “Yeah, you know me. I don’t deal well with spooky shadows in caves. But uh… tell me about the clues you found, huh? That’ll help me take my mind off being scared.”

Though still a little uneasy, Greg seemed to accept this explanation and didn’t waste time launching into a slightly exaggerated version of his and Mabel’s exploration.

They’d found the same thing. Sticks of all shapes and sizes, one impaling and seeming to topple a tree. The only thing they hadn’t found, and Dipper was relieved to hear it for Greg’s sake, was blood. He blew out a breath, walking back to the bikes with his sister. “Hey, Wirt? I need my flashlight. I’m going back in.”

“What?” Wirt stood up quickly as he whirled to face him, Greg latching onto his hand as if that would help steady him. “No way. You’re not going back in there alone. That thi- _something_ could still be in there.”

“That’s not what it looks like. It looks like whatever this was - because I don’t recognize these signs from any of the journals, but I’ll look into that later. It looks like this thing went into the den, wreaked havoc, and then chased everyone else. If anything is still in the den, it’ll be one of the weres. And I... I have to make sure. I can’t just go without making sure.”

Wirt clung tightly to the flashlight, unable to really argue with that, but still… “Well, is Mabel going with you?”

She opened her mouth to acquiesce, but Dipper shook his head and held out a hand for the flashlight. “No, I’ll be okay.”

He pursed his lips, face set in a frown as he brought the flashlight up to his chest stubbornly. “You’re not going alone.”

“I’ll go with Dipper,” Greg offered. “I’m brave. I’m not scared of the dark.”

“No,” Wirt told him. “You’re not going in there.”

“But-!” When Wirt shushed him, his cheeks puffed out indignantly. “You shh.”

Mabel plucked him and Jason Funderburker up. “You don’t want to go in there, trust me. Werewolves smell awful.”

Dipper shook his head, laying his hand on Wirt’s wrist. “I _need_ to go back in there. I’ll just use the blacklight if you don’t give me the flashlight.”

“I know you do, I just don’t want you to do it alone.” Wirt glanced at Mabel, and Greg still pouting in her arms. If Dipper wouldn’t take her, then… His shoulders sagged as he exhaled heavily, but he was nothing but firm when he met Dipper’s gaze. “I’m going with you then.”

“No, man. Look, it freaked you out. You don’t have to. I just need to look around, okay?” He started to shiver despite himself, fingers curling around his wrist to have someone to cling to. The werewolves had been gone the day before. If there was anything in there, it would’ve needed his help the day before, and he’d just left.

Wirt looked down at his wrist briefly, then back up at Dipper. “Yeah, well, I know I don’t have to. I’m going anyway.”

“But Wirt…” Greg’s brow was furrowed, unable to understand why he’d go somewhere willingly that had made him come out looking so shaky and ashen.

“I was surprised,” he told him to set his mind at ease. “And now I know what to expect, so I won’t be surprised this time.”

And as long as Mabel and Greg stayed near the bikes, maybe he’d feel a little better about their safety, too. Surely Mabel could handle herself, and she’d never let anything happen to Greg. Wirt flicked on the flashlight, then gently removed Dipper’s hand from his wrist.

“Come on. Let’s go see if anything needs your help.” With that he started back for the cave before his nerves could convince him otherwise.

Dipper started to follow, but his sister held him up. “You know it’s not your fault, right?” He looked back at her, but didn’t reply. “It’s not. Whatever you find, it’s not.”

They’d see. “Stay by the bikes. If anything... If anything shows up, go home. Text me when you get there.”

“Got it.”

He went after Wirt, catching up to him quickly. “I... I’m sorry. This is... I know this is dumb, and I shouldn’t be dragging you into it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Wirt slipped his hand into his. “It’s not dumb and you’re not dragging me into it. I’m dragging myself. Well… not dragging. I mean, you were going to come in here with or without me, and I decided I wanted it to be with me. If anything, I’m the dumb one. I know you can handle yourself with stuff like this; you’ve been doing it for years. And it’s not like me being here is going to be much help, but…” He shrugged, tilting his head to look at him before they lost the last of daylight to the depths of the cave. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Just a reminder that I really, really like you.” The smile he offered was a little weak with worry, but it was genuine. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well… I really, really like you, too.” He bumped his shoulder, smiling back. “You and your need to figure things out and help people no matter what. Even if it means going into creepy caves.”

Dipper laughed softly, taking the flashlight so he could aim it where he needed and so Wirt could look away if he needed to. There were more sticks the further they went, more blood. Turning his mind to the puzzle and not the fact that this had once been a creature, he released Wirt’s hand at one point to get a closer look. Clumps of hair - or, more likely, fur - were stuck to a bloodied stick, impossibly large and embedded into the wall as if it had grown there.

What had been there? What had attacked the werewolves and was it also terrifying the werehares and werefoxes? Had it affected the other werebeasts in the area? He had to know. He had to solve this puzzle and put Gravity Falls back in order.

He rose and grasped Wirt’s hand again. He didn’t know if it was worse to know that nothing would be in that cave, no matter how far they looked, or to not know. “Whatever this thing is, it didn’t leave anything behind. Are you still, um... Are you still up to check a couple other dens or should we get you and Greg back to the hotel?”

Wirt squeezed his hand. “Mom’s not expecting us back until after lunch. We can still check out a few more dens.”

“Thanks. I need to stop this. Whatever this thing is, I can’t let it get worse.” He passed the flashlight back to him. “Let’s get out of here, Wirt.”

 

\----

 

The other dens proved to be just as empty as the first, littered with only traces of blood and the same strange sticks scattered about. Each time they poked their heads into one, Wirt’s hope that they find something - anything - for Dipper to save increased in desperation, but still refused to fall whenever they came up empty. He knew how important it was to hold onto hope, even in the darkest of times. Especially in the darkest of times.

Willing to keep looking, to keep searching for clues to whatever had caused this, Wirt was steadily realizing that he couldn’t keep his mom appeased for much longer through texts. They’d already been given an hour extension, and when they came to a place that got reception, her call came through and Wirt had no choice but to step aside to take it.

But he knew what she was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it.

“Mom, please let us stay one more day? Just one, that’s it,” he pleaded.

“Sweetheart, we already have reservations to be in Salem tonight.” Her voice crackled a little with the static from the trees interrupting the connection. “We can’t cancel them at this point.” She paused, and Wirt could hear Jonathan saying something in the background. “Yes, well, I know that we can technically do what we want, but we won’t get a refund and we’re already on a tight budget as it is with this trip,” she said more to his step-dad than to him. “Wirt, I’m sorry, but we just can’t make it happen this trip. We’ll try and get you and Greg out here again next summer.”

“Next summer?” His heart sank, struggling not to glance over his shoulder to seek out Dipper or Mabel or his brother. The reality of their situation crashed down on him heavily. He was going to have to wait an entire year to see him again, or Greg Mabel. So much could change in a year. So much had changed in just two days! Wirt wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to go.

“Just… can we have another hour? We’ll be back then, I promise.” Wirt clutched his phone with both hands, wishing that she’d give him that much at least.

She sighed softly on the other line. “One more hour,” she agreed. “But then we really do have to leave.”

“Okay.” He swallowed thickly, trying not to let her hear it in his voice. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Wirt, I really am sorry. I know you’re having a great time-”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head. It really wasn’t, but it wasn’t her fault. It was just the situation. “It’s fine. I understand. I’ll see you in an hour. Love you.”

He listened to her return the sentiment before hanging up. Flipping the phone shut, he tightened his grip on it and felt a very strong urge to chuck it at the nearest tree. That wouldn’t do anyone any good though, he realized as he let out a long, weary breath, choosing to pocket the phone instead as he turned around and shuffled his way back to the rest of their little group.

Greg and Mabel had taken to making flower crowns while Dipper paced beside them, his nose buried in his journal. Wirt pursed his lips together tightly. Why did they have to live so far apart? Mabel and Greg delighted in each other’s company and he in Dipper’s and… and how was he supposed to help him when he was on the other side of the country?

The stupidest part was that they would still be in Oregon for the rest of the week. A mere two or three hours away depending on traffic. They’d still be so close, but completely at the mercy of hotel cancellation fees and freeways.

Wirt hugged himself as he continued to approach them, working on making his expression seem just a tad less heartbroken. When Greg looked up at him though, he could immediately tell he hadn’t done a good enough job. His little brother abandoned his circle of flowers to hurry over to him.

“What did Mom say?” he asked.

The twins looked up in unison, eyes equally wide, and Dipper sighed. “She said no.”

Greg gasped, glancing at both of them before turning back to Wirt for his confirmation. When Wirt nodded, his face fell. Even Jason Funderburker croaked sadly from where he was draped in flowers.

“We have another hour,” he told them. “Then we really have to go.”

“I don’t want to.” Greg crossed his arms.

“I don’t either, Greg, but… but we can’t stay at the motel another night,” Wirt explained, trying to keep it simple for him.

The journal fell to his side, Dipper covering his eyes with his free hand. “What a great last day. I’m sorry. We should’ve done something else.”

Mabel set her flower crown down, studying them all. Her optimism had been tested sorely that day, watching her brother’s mood plummet and Wirt’s stress levels rise. But she still had some fight in her. “What about the Shack?”

Wirt blinked slowly, lifting his head a little to consider her hopefully while Greg placed his hands on his hips and asked, “What about it?”

“You can’t stay at the motel another night, but what if you stayed with us?” When her brother smiled for the first time in hours, she knew she was on the right track. “When’s your flight home? Where’s it out of? Stay with us at the Shack.”

“We’ll have to actually ask Grunkle Stan and their parents. I mean- Wirt, what- I mean. Do you want to stay? I know today’s been... awful, but...”

“Of course I want to stay,” he blurted, waving his hands about wildly. “Our flight home isn’t even until Friday! We were just going to spend the rest of the week on the coast or in Portland and I want to spend it here-!” Wirt reined in his outburst, cheeks coloring a little while Greg cheered him on. “Would your uncle let us? I mean, this would be bigger than just a sleepover. And our parents won’t be in the same town at all.”

“I’ll be good!” Greg offered. “I’ll be on my best behavior! Jason Funderburker, too!”

“We’ve got an hour, right?” Dipper put the journal in his pocket and reached for the old bike. “Let’s go find out if we can get a week together.” He swung on, his grin all for Wirt. “A whole week, man.”

Mabel laughed, scrambling to her feet. “Come on, Greg, Jason Funderburker! Basket!”

Greg whooped and scooped up their lucky frog before racing her to the bike. As Wirt went to grab Dipper’s, he couldn’t help brushing past him, giving his forearm a squeeze as he returned the smile. A whole week. He almost didn’t want to hope for it in case it all came crashing down around them, but it burned brightly nonetheless. He wanted to stay. He had to stay.

 

\----

 

The old man scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

“No!” The twins, undeterred, walked backwards as their uncle pushed forward.

“Come _on_ , Grunkle Stan!”

“Please, please, please? It’s only until Friday. Dipper’s willing to do extra chores.”

“Uh. So is Mabel.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then considered. “Actually, I am! Grunkle Stan, I will even - and this is a limited time offer - knit everyone their own Mystery Shack sweaters to wear as uniforms.”

“You’re not helping your case, kiddo. Now move. Come on. There’s a tour bus out there with dollar signs all over it.”

The twins stepped aside and let him pass, Dipper looking over his shoulder at Wirt and Greg. His shoulders sagged for a moment, but he couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let a week slip through their fingers because of his uncle. He smacked his fist to his palm and whirled back to him. “Grunkle Stan, they’re staying whether you like it or not! Mabel and I’ve got it taken care of, and it’s happening. That’s it!”

The old man looked back, shifting his unnecessary eyepatch to the opposite eye to see him better. Dipper’s mutinous expression didn’t change, so he shrugged. “Alright. Can I get to work now?”

“Wait. Alright?” Mutiny faded to shock because, well, how had that worked? “It’s alright?”

“It’s alright!” Mabel cheered. “You can stay!”

Dipper laughed, and the twins high-fived. “Yes! We still have to ask your parents now, but yes!”

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt looked to Greg, his little brother beaming, and he just had to grin back. “Wow. Okay! Come on, Greg. Let’s go ask Mom and Jonathan! We’ll go to the motel and ask in person and that way we can grab our things when they say yes- if they say yes. Boy, I hope they say yes.”

“I think they will!” Greg’s complete faith in that was refreshing and reassuring, not matter how much it was expected of him.

“Do you guys want to come with us? Will you?” Wirt asked the twins, his gaze lingering on Dipper.

“Yes!” was cheered by both, and Dipper reached out to take his hand.

“We can take the Mystery Cart so we can fit your bags. They will say yes. They have to. Something’s going to go right today.”

“It will.” Wirt’s chest tightened with the fear that it wouldn’t - he couldn’t let Dipper down when he clearly needed this win - but he pushed it aside and buried it.

He didn’t even freak out in the Mystery Cart, too preoccupied with organizing his argument in his head, listing all the reasons why it was perfectly acceptable for them to stay, how responsible he’d be, how good Greg would be, framing his case with bullet points and imaginary charts. Why didn’t he have real charts? Did he even need charts? Were they necessary? No, wait, focus. Charts had nothing to do with this, he’d be fine as long as he played it cool. He knew how to handle his mom when he wanted something, and he was learning how to handle Jonathan. This would work.

When the cart pulled into the motel parking lot, Wirt almost forgot to wait for it to come to a complete stop before getting out. Almost. Wow, he needed to get his head on straight. He took the time to compose himself as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, making sure that the twins and Greg were with him. It might’ve seemed a little bit like an ambush, but it couldn’t hurt to have Dipper and Mabel there to be able to vouch for their great uncle.

In front of their room, Wirt inhaled deeply as he fished the key out of his pocket. He glanced at Dipper, then at Mabel and Greg, then pushed it in and turned the handle. The bags were mostly packed, lined up by the door. Wirt nearly tripped on them in his haste to get out of the way so the others could enter after him. His mom was packing her cosmetics and his step-dad was stocking the cooler.

They both looked up, smiles coming easily as they prepared to greet them, but then Wirt realized words were spilling out of his mouth first. “We want to stay at the Mystery Shack!”

Their parents blinked and Wirt actually smacked his palm to his face. So much for his plan. Mabel could only laugh, hiding as much of it as she could in Greg’s hair when she swept him up for a hug. Dipper offered his support by laying a hand on his shoulder. While appreciating the contact, Wirt still flushed furiously at the way he’d just blurted it out.

“Uh… I mean… Greg and I would appreciate it if… you’d let us stay at the Mystery Shack with Dipper and Mabel until we have to go home. Please.”

His mom and step-dad looked at each other for a moment, both processing the request, and she recovered first. “Wirt, I don’t know. That’s a pretty big thing to ask for.”

“I know.” He started wringing his hands together, glancing over his shoulder at Dipper. “And I know that I already asked for this trip in the first place and that it was a huge deal, but we made it work and I think we can make this work, too. Dipper and Mabel already asked their uncle and he said it was fine. And Greg- Greg! Tell them how you’ll be on your best behavior?”

“I will,” he piped up, waving from Mabel’s arms. “I’ll actually listen to everything Wirt or Mabel says! Oh, and Dipper, too, ‘cause he’s the admiral.”

Wirt gestured him. “See? He’ll actually listen. That’s huge.”

Their mom covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter while Jonathan’s eyes widened, unable to hide his grin. “That is pretty huge, I have to agree with you, Wirt.”

It was working. They were smiling at any rate. “Yeah, and I’ll look after him and, you know, I won’t cause any problems, so you guys don’t have to worry while you’re in Portland or wherever and it’s not _that_ far in case there’s an emergency. Which there won’t be, but if there was, it’s not that bad. And you haven’t had a vacation to yourselves since your honeymoon, right? You wouldn’t have to worry about us, we wouldn’t have to worry about you, everybody wins.”

They glanced at each other again. “He does have a point,” Jonathan noted. “And their uncle said it was okay.”

“We don’t even know their uncle,” their mom reminded him. “Not personally, anyway.”

“We’ve stayed with him every summer since we were twelve,” Dipper blurted. “He’s kind of- well, he’s crazy, but he’s not a bad guy, and- You can come talk to him if you want. Before you go. It's just that Mabel and I’ve been waiting forever to see Greg and Wirt and we just- Sorry. I probably shouldn’t even be talking because this is a family thing, but...” He looked at Wirt, hands flailing helplessly. “Please let them stay. Please.”

“It would really mean a lot!” Mabel agreed, swinging Greg up to her shoulders as if that would protect him from being taken away from her.

“Mom,” Wirt started, stepping closer to her and his step-dad. “Jonathan, please. I was scared before, I didn’t know what to expect, so I didn’t ask for more time here, but… but I really want this. I won’t ask for anything after this. All I want is to spend the rest of the week here, please. Please I have to stay.”

When they exchanged glances again, both of their gazes reflected their answer. “Wirt, if this really means that much to you, then of course you can stay,” his mother started, and Wirt’s knees wobbled as his heart resumed pounding like crazy.

“Really?” he breathed, smile spreading across his face.

She nodded. “If it’s alright with their uncle, then it’s alright with me as long as you check in regularly, but,” she interrupted his frantic nodding by holding up her hand, “I’m not comfortable letting Greg stay, too. It would just be you.”

“What?” His face fell and he instinctively looked back at Greg, who’d looked absolutely ecstatic at the news only to slowly deflate as he realized what they’d just said. “No… Mom, why?”

“Wirt, you’re older, and I’m sure you can handle being away from us for so long. But Greg’s just too young right now. I’d just feel better if he was with us,” she explained, then looked past Wirt sadly. “Honey, I’m sorry,” she told Greg.

“But I’ll look after him, I won’t let anything happen to him,” Wirt pressed, unable to accept his win in the face of Greg’s loss. “Mabel, too! She adores him! With the two of us watching him, he’ll be the safest kid!”

“Mom, I want to stay!” Greg clung to Mabel, appearing adamant on remaining rooted to her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Greg. Maybe when you’re older,” his dad replied, before turning his attention to Wirt. “It’s great that you’d step up like that, kiddo, but we don’t want to put this on your shoulders.”

“I don’t mind. I really, honestly don’t mind,” he told them. “I want him to stay, we all do!”

Mabel swung him down, rubbing their cheeks together. “They both have to stay! I promised we’d go on adventures this summer, and we have to!”

Dipper looped an arm around his sister’s waist, then nabbed Wirt’s hand to tug him over, “Seriously. We want them both to stay. We’ve got the room, we’ll give you the number to the Shack, mine and Mabel’s phones since we get receptions pretty much everywhere here on ours. You can call whenever. They both really have to stay.”

Their parents clearly hadn’t expected all of them to feel so strongly about this. Jonathan took their mom aside for the pair of them to talk quietly, glancing over at them occasionally. Wirt squeezed Dipper’s hand, his free one finding Greg’s as well. They both had to stay. Wirt didn’t think he’d be able to without him.

Finally, after what felt like hours despite only being minutes, they turned back to the teenagers and the seven-year-old. “You call us twice a day to check in,” their mom told Wirt and Greg. “And answer your phone if we call unless the reception is bad, and then you call us right back. You two are not to go off on your own, make sure you’re with one or both of them if you leave their house. Greg, I mean it. No adventures with only Jason Funderburker in the woods, am I clear?”

“As a bell!” Greg assured her, giving her a thumbs up. “I can stay?”

“You can stay,” she agreed. “If it really means that much to all of you, then I don’t see why we can’t try it out and see how it goes.”

“And if there are any problems, just call us and we’ll head over,” Greg’s dad added.

“Victory!” Greg cheered, throwing his arms in the air while Wirt sagged with a weird combination of relief, disbelief, and unmistakable joy.

“We’re staying,” he murmured. “For a whole week.”

“A whole week!” Greg repeated.

Mabel twirled ecstatically, cheering, and her twin forgot to think. He threw his arms around Wirt, clinging to his sweater. “A week.”

“This is the best thing ever!” Mabel decided. “We’re going to have so much fun! We’re going to do so many things!” She rubbed her nose to Greg’s, giggling, and then twirled to face the brothers’ parents. “Thank you so much!”

“Y-yeah,” Wirt managed to kick his brain into gear, hugging Dipper back before going over to hug his mom, too, because this was a big deal and he was not too old or above hugging his mom. “Thank you. Seriously. I don’t even-”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” She returned the embrace and kissed his cheek, then did the same for Greg once he’d wiggled down from Mabel’s arms.

“Do you need us to take your things over in the car?” Jonathan asked, gesturing to their suitcases.

“No, we uh- we’ve got a ride. It’s a golf cart. They’re not driving illegally, because that would be reckless and irresponsible and completely not allowed,” Wirt babbled while they looked at him with amusement. “It’s… yeah, it’s a golf cart.”

The twins grinned identical, innocent grins, exchanging looks and fist bumps. It was Dipper who picked up Greg when he came back to them, giving him a tight hug before passing him to his sister. “So do you need anything from us, or are we good?”

The parents and the twins exchanged contact informations just to be safe, while Wirt was given the phone numbers for the next two hotels they’d be staying at in case they couldn’t reach them on their cell phones. They helped them take the boys’ things downstairs, including Wirt’s clarinet case which he kept close to him knowing the crumbled ball of paper was still squished inside of it and didn’t want any over-excited brothers or sisters or boys that he liked trying to get their hands on it. They packed up the golf cart quickly, in the off-chance that anyone’s mind changed, and they said their goodbyes.

“Have fun,” their mom told Wirt before he got in the passenger seat of the golf cart, giving him one last squeeze. “It’s really good to see you so excited about this. I’m so glad that things worked out with meeting your pen pal in person.”

“Yeah, me too.” It was still beyond anything he’d ever imagined, part of him still couldn’t quite believe it. “Thanks again, Mom.”

“Bye Mom! Bye Dad!” Greg hollered once they were all in the cart, cruising at a reasonable speed, Wirt noticed, since their parents were still within sight of the vehicle. “Ha ha! Nothing can keep Mystery Best Friends from mysteries and adventure!”

“Absolutely nothing, Greg!” Mabel laughed, patting her heart as relief and delight swelled it. She had to make plans immediately. A week of adventure was ahead of them!

Dipper’s foot itched to press further down on the pedal, so he distracted himself by glancing at Wirt. “Pen pal, huh?”

Wirt’s cheeks colored and he slumped in his seat. “Well… I dunno. Somehow I didn’t think telling her I wanted to visit friends we’d met in the afterlife from a different year would go over quite as well.”

“Probably not. I like it, though, the idea of being pen pals. You’ll have to tell me the whole thing you told them, though, so we can keep it straight.” He held out a hand once they were out of sight of the motel, waiting for Wirt to take it before smashing the gas pedal flat.

They were back at the Shack within minutes, Mabel the first to spring out of her seat to grab Greg’s suitcase. “Come on! Let’s go put this in my room and pick something to do with the rest of the day, okay?”

“Okay!” Greg agreed, racing inside after her with frog in tow. “Let’s go, Jason Funderburker!”

Wirt watched them go as he grabbed his own suitcase. This was good, this was right. He couldn’t imagine staying here knowing how badly Greg wanted to as well. Even if he didn’t really understand what had happened to them in The Unknown, this visit was just as important to him. It was important for all of them.

“Hey, so… thanks for helping me convince them, I know I kinda let it get away from me,” he piped up, sidling over to Dipper. “I mean, I had this whole thing planned, like, I knew exactly what I wanted to say and then it just…” He let go of the suitcase with one hand to wave it in the air.

“Man, no one ever remembers what they’re trying to say if it’s important. At least I don’t.” He mounted the stairs to the home half of the Shack, holding the door open. “And, you know, it was important to me that you guys got to stay, and to Mabel. Why wouldn’t I help?”

Wirt shrugged with a little half-smile. “I dunno. I’m just glad you did.” He entered the home fully, waiting for Dipper before carting his stuff up the stairs after him. “So… did you find anything in your journal earlier? You know, when my mom called?”

He groaned, rubbing his hands against his face when the mystery was tossed into it. “No. There’s not a single common enemy for all the weres, and I didn’t see anything that fights or is made of sticks in the second journal. I’m going to have to go through the others, but I don’t remember seeing anything like this before.”

“Have new things ever shown up before? Like, migrated here from somewhere else?” Maybe supernatural creatures were drawn to large hubs of paranormal activity? Or maybe they just liked big, creepy forests.

“There’ve been things that aren’t in the journals before, but I can’t really say if that’s because they came here after they were written or if the author vanished before he was really finished documenting all the weird things here. I could just ask him, but I like not-”

He was cut off when Mabel shot by, armed with a sweater and her knitting supplies. “Greg and I are going to watch TV and knit!”

“Yeah! Mabel’s gonna show me how to make mittens for Jason Funderburker!” Greg chimed in, following at her heels with their frog tucked under one arm and a few straggling knitting things clutched in his other hand.

Wirt blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Greg, it’s June.”

“So?”

They considered each other for a moment before the older brother shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Giggling, Mabel continued down. “Come on down when you put your stuff up, okay? No more mystery things tonight, Dipper! We have a victory to celebrate!”

“But-”

“Victory!”

The miniature parade trampled down the stairs - seeming like much more than a girl, a boy, and a frog - and Wirt shook his head after them, lips quirked up. “It’s up to you,” Wirt piped up, looking to Dipper. “If you want to do… mystery things still, that’s fine with me. I mean, I’m not sure how much help I’ve been so far, but if you just need someone to talk things out with… you’ve got me.”

Usually he bounced his rants off of Mabel or recorded himself for later playback, and he did like the linear way Wirt’s mind seemed to work. But they’d had the worst morning, and did he really want to start going over the theories about the size and scope of a monster and how it would’ve left blood behind, but nothing else?

He considered, and was shaking his head by the time they reached the attic. “No. Don’t tell her I said this, but Mabel’s right. I’ll table it for now. Want to watch the really awful movies Gravity Falls can afford and call for pizza?”

“Yeah, that… that actually sounds kinda perfect.” With an extra several days spread out ahead of them, Wirt honestly couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more. “How awful are we talking? Cult classic awful or just plain bad?”

“Okay, so you said your favorite movie is _Dead Poets Society_? That but math teachers and zombies for no reason.”

The mental image that inspired was too ridiculous to not laugh at. “Alright, I’m in,” he replied with a grin, setting down his things in a corner of Dipper’s room that was free.

“Cool.” Returning the grin, Dipper led the way back down. When Waddles was found loitering at the top of the stairs, he carried him down and let him race ahead into the living room. He couldn’t help but laugh at Greg’s cheer. “Hey, um... After this, mystery things are tabled. But, you know, thanks for earlier. Sticking around, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, it was important to you. And… I dunno. I guess I hoped something would come out of it, or you’d find another clue or… something to just make you feel better about whatever’s going on out there.” Wirt gestured vaguely to some kind of “out there” as they walked into the living room, both their siblings set up on the floor in front of the TV surrounded by yarn and pets alike.

“I did get a lot out of it. There were markers, a pattern, consistency - it’ll all help when I’m researching this thing later.”

Dipper immediately made for the single chair in the room, but paused and glanced back at Wirt. He couldn’t make him sit on the floor. It was the epitome of rude, but he also didn’t want to sit on the floor and get roped into holding yarn for his sister or something equally lame. He looked back at the chair, gauging the widths, and color tinted his cheeks. It would be a snug fit, but he was really okay with that. “Sit with me?”

“Oh- um… yeah. Yeah, okay.” Wirt’s gaze darted quickly between the chair and Dipper, well-aware of how close they’d be.

He scurried over, cheeks equally red as he waited for Dipper to sit first, then squeezed in beside him. Their thighs immediately pressed together, and at first Wirt hunched his shoulders in, keeping his arms tucked in so he wouldn’t take up too much space - it was Dipper’s house, he wanted to give him all the space he needed. But he did like the idea of just sitting, casually touching, leaning into each other without worrying about the need for personal space or anything.

_Should I put my arm around him? No, no, that’s too bold. Too forward. I could- no, what if he just wants to sit and watch the movie? But he did want to sit together and I want to sit together and oh my gosh, Wirt, stop thinking so much, now he’s probably staring at you thinking you’re crazy._ Wirt fidgeted, pressing his lips together as he glanced at him.

Dipper solved the problem by not realizing there was one. As far as he was concerned, Wirt’s agreement to sit there was tantamount to an agreement to hold on. In a week’s time, they would be a continent apart so why not get in as much of this as possible?

He plucked up the remote, flipping through the bizarre list of channels until he hit a movie that was just beginning. His free hand wrapped around Wirt, palm resting on his waist as his head tilted and dropped onto one of his hunched shoulders.

His eyes rounded, a small sound squeaking in the back of his throat as Wirt stayed completely still. As if any sudden movements would suddenly chase him away. He quickly realized that breathing was necessary though, so he let his chest rise and fall a few times to gauge how that went. When Dipper didn’t move away or realize that he was making a huge mistake, Wirt steadily relaxed against him. The tension drained from his shoulders, trying to make himself into a more comfortable pillow for the other boy as he leaned back.

They were cuddling. Cuddling. Him and Dipper. On a chair. Watching a movie on TV like regular people doing regular things. Like a couple. A goofy little smile spread across his face. He had to mentally kick himself as a reminder to stop paying attention to Dipper’s hand against his side and to focus on the movie as he settled into the chair.

“This is nice,” Wirt blurted out stupidly, then cringed a little as he reflected on exactly how idiotic he sounded. “I, uh… I mean…”

Dipper laughed, pressing his face against Wirt’s shoulder and giving his side a squeeze. “No, it is. It’s kind of great.”

Mabel looked up at them, then whispered to her partner in crime, “Ob-waffle.”

Greg tilted his head, then craned it back to see them, too. “Ob-waffle is go,” he whispered right back with a grin.

“What are you two whispering about?” Wirt asked.

“Secrets!” Greg waved his hand back at him. “Secrets for generals and corporals only!”

Dipper started to argue, but their uncle distracted him by picking his way through animals and crafts, holding a package aloft. “What’s that, Grunkle Stan?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Came from India. Probably. We’ll go with that.” Successfully through the crafts, he actually looked at his nephew and rolled his eyes at the two boys cuddling in his chair. “You know, I’d expect this from Mabel-”

“Oh my god.” Dipper slid down, hiding his red face better in Wirt’s side. “Guys can snuggle too, Grunkle Stan.”

“Snuggle,” he repeated with a snort, then disappeared around the corner and up the stairs.

When he was certain the twins’ uncle was gone, Wirt sagged right back against Dipper, his forehead pressing against his cap. “Oh my gosh,” he gasped, a breathless little laugh escaping him. “ _Snuggle_. We’re snuggling.”

And there was absolutely nothing he wanted to do more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens and the awkward teen romance becomes slightly less awkward (just kidding, it hasn't. I mean, it's Wirt and Dipper, people, they are all awkward all the time).


	9. Chapter 9

It was too hot to move. Mabel had even forgone the sweater she’d hoped to wear that day, lying facedown on the kitchen table in her tank top and skirt. “No monster hunting today,” she pleaded and Dipper laughed, sprawled on the linoleum floor.

“We could go to the lake.”

“Or the pool,” she suggested.

“What, with Lifeguard McHotpants in charge? I thought he creeped you out.”

She laughed. “That’s not Mr. Poolcheck’s name, Dipper, and he doesn’t creep me out. He’s just not someone I would like to be around for long periods of time unsupervised. What do you think, Greg? Pick our adventure! The lake or the pool?”

“Um…”

Wow, those were both really good options. Greg tapped his chin thoughtfully from where he sat perched on a chair next to Mabel and the table, holding a sweating can of soda to his forehead for some relief. His gaze wandered about the kitchen in search of answers, lingering on Dipper on the floor before bouncing up to find Wirt. His older brother was leaning against the wall, surprisingly sweater-less as well, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and had been trying to get his attention silently from what he could tell. Oh! Brother secrets! Greg set the soda down and sat up at attention, puffing out his cheeks as he saluted Wirt.

He was mouthing something at him, but Greg was terrible at reading lips. Luckily he was doing his flappy hand motions as well, which he could understand much easier. Aha, he was giving him his opinion on what they should do today!

“Laaaaaaake?” he guessed, squinting at his brother, his eyes widening when Wirt crossed his arms in a negative gesture, shaking his head wildly. “Oh! Pool! Let’s go to the pool.”

While Wirt still didn’t look all that thrilled about it, he seemed less panicky than he had when he almost said “lake.” Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen his brother go swimming at all in a really long time. And a second come to think of it, he himself hadn’t gone swimming in a really long time, too!

“Do you not like swimming anymore, Wirt?” he asked.

He stiffened, holding his hands up defensively. “I never said that,” he replied quickly.

“‘Cause it’s really hot and swimming would be fun,” Greg continued to point out. “Right?” He looked to Mabel and Dipper for their agreement, especially because they seemed to be melting into the floor and furniture and his crazy brother was still wearing pants and socks and a long-sleeved shirt, rolled up to the elbows or not.

“Swimming!” Mabel cheered, voice muffled by the table. If she’d looked up, she would’ve seen Wirt’s discomfort and tried to come up with something else.

Dipper looked up, squinted, and tried to think of something else. “We don’t have to do either. I mean...” They’d nearly drowned in a lake. Feeling immeasurably stupid, he dropped his head back to the floor. “I don’t know. We don’t have to go.”

“No, it’s- it’s fine.” But Wirt’s body language wasn’t exactly screaming ‘fine’ as he kept his arms crossed tightly. “The pool is fine. I mean, it’s a controlled environment. There’s an apparently creepy lifeguard, but hey, at least he’s there. Guarding lives.”

“Yeah!” Greg stood up on the seat of the chair. “That’s the spirit, Wirt!”

Wirt glanced over at him, then narrowed his eyes. “We’re getting you a pair of water wings though. Or a lifejacket. Or both.”

“Whatever you say, captain!” Greg leapt down from the chair. “Come on, Mabel! You can’t go to the pool if you become part of the table.”

She largely rolled to the floor, hitting her feet more by accident than design. “We’ll go get our swimsuits and tell Grunkle Stan,” she decided, following the boy out.

Dipper sat up, placing his palms flat behind him to prop himself up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think-”

“It’s okay.” Wirt looked at him for a moment, then pushed away from the wall to walk over and held out his hand to help him up. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. And in all fairness, it is really hot and locating the nearest body of water is a reasonably sane suggestion.” His brow furrowed a little as he considered something. “As long as I don’t… I dunno. Submerge myself in the water, I think it should be fine. Or, you know, maybe it won’t be a problem at all. I don’t know.”

“So you and Greg haven’t gone swimming at all since... Halloween?”

“Not… not really.” He shrugged, attempting to brush it off. “It gets really cold in the winter with all the snow and stuff and then it’s not warm enough for swimming until… but I was busy with school and finals and getting ready for this trip and I never really thought about it? I mean, Greg and I have gone back over the wall to check out the lake, but we haven’t actually gone in it.”

The idea of getting some relief from the heat warred with not wanting to make Wirt uncomfortable, but Mabel and Greg were all for it and “Kids! To the car!” was a pretty good indicator that Grunkle Stan was on board.

“If it is a problem, let me know. Okay? We can get out of there.”

“Yeah, okay.” Wirt nodded, a bit hesitant, but when he met Dipper’s gaze his resolve strengthened a bit. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. The pool is way different from a lake, after all.”

“The worst thing the pool’s ever had is a merman, so yeah.” Dipper stretched on a sigh, then lead the way out of the kitchen. “So do you need to borrow a swimsuit, or...?”

 

\----

 

Wirt tugged on the hem of the orange t-shirt Dipper had let him borrow in addition to the swim trunks as his gaze skimmed the busy pool area. Concern knitted his brow when a loud splash had water sloshing over the edge of the deep end, followed by the piercing bleat of a whistle. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Though he had to stand by his initial assessment in that the pool was different from a lake. The concrete that paved the ground certainly did little to remind him of the muddied banks that he’d clawed at, sloshed through, with an unconscious little brother on his back. The clear, pale blue water shimmering in the sunlight was also a vast improvement over the dark, murky depths that filled his lungs as he dove down deeper. The sun beating down overhead bathed the entire town in a searing heat that had been completely absent that Halloween night or the time he’d fallen through the break in the ice. It had been cold. It had been so cold and Greg was gone and he was alone and it was all his fault-

“Wirt! Wirt, look, they have inflatable ducks! Can I have an inflatable duck?” Greg asked, pointing to the pool supply shack with wide, eager eyes.

“Yes,” Wirt answered immediately. He could have all the inflatable ducks he wanted if it kept him from sinking to the bottom of the lake- of the pool. They were at a pool. “Come on, Greg. Let’s go see what other floatation devices they have over there.”

He placed himself between Greg and the edge of the pool as he herded him to the supplies, despite the significant amount of space between the water and the shack. Since their mom had packed for Greg, she’d thought to put a swimsuit in his bag just in case they decided to go to the beach or the pool at one of the hotels they stayed at. Wirt, on the other hand, hadn’t even considered the fact that a swimsuit was something he’d possibly need. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, Dipper’s fit well-enough, though he’d been unable to stop blushing from the moment he slipped them over his waist and all the way on the drive to the pool. They were a little short, coming up just above his knees, and a little baggy in the waist, but he’d cinched them up and was pretty much good to go. Should he decide to actually get in the water, that is. With one hand pressed to Greg’s back protectively, his eyes wandered to the shallow end. Exactly how shallow was the shallow end? He wondered, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

The twins didn’t have the same reservations at all, both dumping towels, shoes, and t-shirts at Grunkle Stan’s preferred chair and bickering over which mark they’d make first. Run and jump cannonball was agreed to with a fist bump.

“Highest jump or biggest splash?” Dipper wondered and Mabel rubbed her chin, considering the water as they hovered at an arbitrarily chosen space.

“First one in - on your mark, get set, go!” she shouted and bolted. Used to her, they were off simultaneously and jumped, each grinning at the other the split second before hitting the water.

Dipper had to hold a hand over his hat, still keeping it down as he and Mabel broke the surface and laughed. “Tied again!” Mabel decided, shaking her head. “Two out of three?”

“Mabel!” was called and she turned, treading water as she sought the source of the voice. Candy and Grenda were in the shallower end, Candy eyeing the deeper waters dubiously.

“Girls! Alright, we can have a tie. This time.”

Every time unless they actually had a judge. Then they likely could’ve spent hours leaping in and comparing best form, highest splash, and all manner of other things. Considering that they weren’t on their own for this pool visit, both decided to be satisfied with the tie.

Mabel swam over to her friends, and Dipper hefted himself out of the water and headed over to the brothers. He felt immeasurably better about the weather now, removing his hat as he walked to wring it out and slap it right back onto his soaked hair. He’d been teased more than once over the years for wearing the article to a pool of all places, but hair floated. The last thing he wanted was for one misstep to reveal the birthmark he’d spent roughly a decade thus far hiding.

He bumped his wet shoulder against Wirt’s when he caught up to them, grinning down at Greg. He looked more floaty than kid, water wings pulled up to his shoulders and a duck around his waist. He tapped its inflated bill, amused. “You know, these are Soos’s favorites. When he’s around, he’s always got one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s not the best swimmer.” He ruffled Greg’s hair, then smiled at Wirt. “Holding up okay?”

“I think so.” Finding it rather endearing that he’d worn his hat into the water coupled with Greg’s floaty situation, Wirt was able to relax a little. Just a little though, as he still couldn’t help glancing over Dipper’s shoulder to point at the pool. “You wouldn’t happen to know how shallow the shallow end is and how deep the deep end is, would you?”

“Too shallow and not deep enough!” Greg answered for him, hurrying around both boys to get to the pool and to Mabel and her friends.

“Greg!” Wirt’s voice squeaked, eyes widening in mild panic as he clutched at his heart through the shirt. “Be careful!”

The little boy had the decency to at least look back at him over his shoulder. “You worry too much, brother o’ mine. It’s just the pool.” He gestured to it, then prepared to hop in, but seemed to think better of it last minute and took the ladder instead. His brother was already worrying all over the place, it was best not to make it worse.

Wirt’s cheeks colored at being called out - and in front of Dipper no less - then hid his face in his hands. “ _Ugh_. He’s right. I do worry too much. What is wrong with me? I’ve never even had a bad experience with a pool!”

“It's okay. You went through... You know. It's fine, Wirt. You should be glad that he's not scared, though, right?” He watched his sister and her friends surround Greg, all ready to fawn over and play with the elementary schooler. “Nothing's going to happen to him here, man. Or you. Trust me.”

“I know,” he exhaled, pushing his hands up and through his hair. “I mean, on some level, I know that. This isn’t the same thing at all. There’s no train that nearly hit us or a giant hill that we rolled down and got knocked unconscious from before we even fell in the lake. This is controlled. There’s a lifeguard. There’s plenty of people. No one’s going to drown.”

“The worry’s still there, though. It’s okay. I get it.” He and Mabel had experienced their own panic attacks after dealing with The Unknown. “Just... What are you going to do with it?”

“I…” Wirt’s brow furrowed and he glanced at Dipper. “I don’t know. What did you do?”

“After the whole falling off a cliff thing, we missed, like, a month of school. I broke my leg, and she’d broken her arm, and we were both really, really lucky we didn’t do worse. So there were casts and physical therapy, all the exciting things, and then we went back to school and we still had casts. And we were, y’know, the two kids who’d gotten kicked off the bus and almost died.

“But before we went back to school, it was fine. It wasn’t in our faces that we’d fallen and there was nothing to worry about and no real reason to think about it. We talked more about you guys and The Unknown than what had happened on this plane. Kids at school wanted to talk about the cliff. ‘How’d you fall? Did it hurt when you landed? Did you pass out right away? We heard you were dead.’ And it was _there_ , all day.”

He couldn’t tuck his hands in his pockets since there weren’t any, so crossed his arms across his chest and sighed. “We got on the bus and everything was okay, pretty much. But then Mabel starts shaking, and I was trying to calm her down, but then I was too because we were coming up to it. Kids were looking at us, asking us if that was it. And then we both just... shut down. We freaked out and then we kind of started missing the bus on purpose and trying to get our parents to pick us up and take us literally any other route but that one. We just couldn’t do it. We couldn’t see it.

“And then our casts got taken off, and I finally stopped limping and Mabel could knit right again. But we still couldn’t take the bus. We took one that went a good hour out of the way, and it was the worst. And then... I don’t know. I got tired of it. I got tired of some of my friends from the neighborhood trying to get me and Mabel to get on the bus like normal because I didn’t feel normal anymore. I felt like the kid everyone was tip-toeing around and whispering about, and Mabel was too.

“So we talked it out, grabbed her grappling hook, and walked home from school and we scaled that stupid cliff. Like idiots. That guardrail was crap and we used that as our anchor, so we should’ve just fallen again. Mabel and I are stupid sometimes.” Dipper shrugged. “But we could ride the bus again, so it was worth it.”

Wirt mimicked Dipper’s pose, his arms tucked in close as he sidled closer to him, letting their shoulders brush together. “Wow, that’s…”

“The longest answer for a really easy question? Yeah.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I was gonna say that’s pretty amazing. You’re pretty amazing- I mean, uh… you make it sound like it was nothing to scale the cliff after all that. Just another one of your adventures or puzzles to solve, but it still must’ve been hard for you. Both of you.”

“It _was_ just another puzzle, man. That’s the thing. How do we be normal again? I had to think of it that way at least, or I wouldn’t have gone over. I had to, though, you know? We had to scale the cliff.”

His voice lowered and he slung an arm around Wirt’s waist to give him an encouraging squeeze. “You’ve gotta get in the pool.”

His eyes lined with worry as his gaze drifted from Dipper to the pool. “Do I? I mean, swimming’s not that important. I can get through the rest of my life without swimming ever again, can’t I? A lot of people don’t swim. It’s normal. It’s totally and completely normal and I’m babbling, aren’t I?” He smacked his palm to his face.

“Maybe a little,” he teased, leaving his palm on the other teen’s waist. “But, look, I’m not going to make you if you don’t want to. It’s your call.”

He inhaled deeply, puffing up his cheeks a bit before his breath left him with a resigned sigh. Wirt tore his eyes from the water and focused on Dipper instead. He wasn’t going to make him, but he still believed that he could. He could. It didn’t mean that he had to put his head under water. Baby steps. He could get in the pool and see how that went.

“Okay. You’ll uh… you’ll come with me?”

“No, I’m absolutely going to make you go on your own.” Dipper grinned, releasing his waist to take his hand instead. “Come on.”

Sorry to lose the reassuring contact, Wirt gripped his hand tightly as they crossed the pavement back to the chairs. All he had to do was just get in the pool, easy enough. Letting go of Dipper’s hand, Wirt grabbed the hem of the borrowed t-shirt. He froze instantly. In theory it made sense - take off your shirt to go swimming. It made perfect sense. But Dipper was standing right there. Wirt blinked at him, still gripping the shirt. Now on top of seeing him acting like a scared, babbling worrywart, he was going to see him shirtless. Was he ready for that? He didn’t think he was ready for that. But he already said he’d go in the pool, he couldn’t back out now. If it was his own shirt, he’d just wear it into the pool and claim that he burned easy or something, but this wasn’t his shirt and oh my gosh he was still just standing there and now he looked even crazier because it _wasn’t that hard to just take off a shirt_.

He pulled it off and tossed it aside as if it burned him. Well, that was one way to do it. He stared at the rumpled article of clothing for a moment, then hesitantly flicked his gaze over to Dipper. If he didn’t think he was an absolute lunatic yet, it would be a miracle.

Dipper was too busy trying to breathe properly to think of him as a lunatic, a hand reaching up to tug the bill of his hat down. He’d been turning to check on Greg and the girls, hadn’t even been paying attention, and then Wirt had _paused_. He’d just stood there, fiddling with the hem of the shirt, and Dipper’s mouth had gone dry.

It had hit, and hit hard, that the guy who wore sweaters and pants in freaking June was about to show a lot of skin, and he shouldn’t stare. He really, probably shouldn’t stare. He stared anyway, peering from beneath his hat and biting the inside of his cheek. God, he was cute and tall and lanky and he was so done. All he’d done was take off a shirt to get into a pool. Totally normal, but Dipper’s heart was skipping beats and he was just going to die.

Wirt couldn’t see that he was looking at him though, he mostly just saw Dipper’s hat. The hat that… he’d worn into the pool… His embarrassment fled if only so he could glower at his own stupidity. Really? _Really?_ This could’ve all been avoided so _easily_ , because he clearly didn’t mind getting his clothes wet and he could’ve just _asked_ and now Dipper wasn’t even looking at him-

Oh gosh. He wasn’t looking at him. Why wasn’t he looking at him? Because clearly he was disgusted- well, that was a little harsh. Just because Wirt liked wearing as much clothes as possible didn’t mean he thought he was bad looking. But it didn’t matter what he thought. It mattered what Dipper thought. Because why would Dipper continue to like him if he couldn’t even look at him?

Maybe he was giving him some privacy. That… that could be it. Except… wait. Wirt tilted his head a little to try and see past the shadow. Was he looking at him?

“For cryin’ out loud!” Tired of watching their idiocy - they were getting in the way of his perfect seat being perfect - Grunkle Stan glowered at them both. “Dipper, if you’re gonna ogle at the kid, at least do it openly. And somewhere else!”

“I-” Dipper’s head snapped up, mortified. He’d forgotten his uncle was even there. His gaze flicked to him, then to Wirt again. He swallowed, his interest clear until he tugged the bill low again. “I’m- Oh, man.”

Well-aware that he’d started the whole mess by making such a big deal out of it, Wirt tried to fight the color flooding his cheeks as he grabbed Dipper’s hand and led him over to the pool. “Sorry, we’re uh- we’re sorry.” He directed at Stan before ducking his head and whispering to Dipper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- it was dumb. I should’ve just- and then I thought- and now I can’t even talk.”

“No, um, you didn’t- You killed my brain. Oh my god. Why are you so _cute_ and why did I say that out loud?” He couldn’t pull the hat lower so covered his eyes entirely with his free hand.

“Um.” Wirt paused, at the edge of the pool now anyway so there was nowhere left to go but in, and turned around to look at him. “I uh… I don’t know. I’m not trying to be.” A shy smile tugged on his lips, still flustered, but endeared by the way Dipper was hiding his face. “I do really like your brain though, so I’ll see if I can work on that.”

He huffed a laugh, but his hand fell so he could smile back. “Thanks. I think by the time I’m used to this, though, you’ll be back to killing my brain with your sweaters. So I’ll just need to learn how to live a braindead lifestyle.”

“My sweaters, too? Oh my gosh. You’re going to kill my brain next. I mean, I always wear sweaters, I don’t- I don’t know what to do about that.”

Dipper’s next laugh came more easily, and he finally pushed his hat back up. “Maybe it’s just you in general then.”

“Okay, no. You can’t say things like that.” Wirt made a cutting gesture with his free arm, smile growing even as he tried to look stern. “My heart can’t handle it. It skips and stops and stuff and I don’t think that’s good for it.”

“Good. We can be even from when you took off the shirt you have now ruined for me. You’ll never wear it because sweaters, but it’s yours now.”

Movement finally caught his eye because the two figures were waving so earnestly, and he rolled his eyes at their siblings. Mabel had Greg on her shoulders again, grinning at them. “So... ready?”

Wirt looked over his shoulder at them and sighed, “Guess I have to be, huh? You can uh… you can jump in, if you want. I’m just- I’m just gonna take the ladder.”

“Okay. Don’t stress over it, okay?”

“Come on!” Mabel called. “We’ve made plans! Get in already!”

“Mabel, cut it out!” Dipper gave Wirt’s hand a squeeze, reluctant to let him go, and then more or less fell into the pool since it was shallow. He floated on his back, shifting his hat so it would stay in place, and waited. And maybe he admired Wirt a little bit more. Maybe.

Wirt couldn’t help but admire him back, the way he lazily drifted on the water, sunlight glinting off the sheen of damp skin, his hat and his smile completely adorable. And he was waiting for him. Patient, not pushy. Just waiting to see if he’d get in, or if he’d change his mind and flee. Wirt pursed his lips. Well, Dipper had made the latter an impossible feat for him now. He wanted to be in there with him. Wirt let out a long breath, then grabbed onto the metal handles. He stared at the surface of the water for a moment, bright blue and not dark and sparkling in the sun.

“Do you need a floaty, Wirt?” Greg asked, patting the head of the inflatable duck.

“No, I don’t need a floaty, Greg, I’m fine,” he replied, then slowly eased his way into the pool an inch at a time.

The water only came up to his waist. He could stand easily. So he could totally let go of the ladder. Wirt relinquished his death grip with only a small shudder. Partly because there was now nothing to hold onto, but mostly because the water was much cooler than summer air.

Dipper waded over, offering his hand in replacement. He waited for him to make the choice, though. “So far, so good?”

“Yeah.” Wirt closed his fingers around Dipper’s gratefully. “Yeah, I think so.”

“See, Wirt? You can do anything if you set your mind to it!” Greg cheered. “Now we’re all in the pool together!”

Mabel laughed, the group meeting Wirt and Dipper halfway. She started to excitedly explain the idea she and her friends had been planning, but stopped herself and studied Wirt carefully. “Oh, it’s your cliff,” she realized and set Greg back into the water, letting him bob in his floaties. “Good for you.”

Wirt fidgeted under her gaze, but nodded. “Yeah. Sort of, anyway… um, thanks.”

Greg pursed his lips as he looked around them. He only saw the water and absolutely no cliffs whatsoever. He hummed thoughtfully, brow creasing, then shrugged it off and kicked his way over to them so the duck bumped into Wirt and made him bounce off him.

“Guess what, Wirt! Guess what!” He waved his arms at him.

“What?”

“I’m going to my first sleepover party!”

The water must’ve been messing with him more than he thought, because he was pretty sure he was hearing Greg wrong. “You mean, you had your first sleepover party. At Dipper and Mabel’s last night and the night before that.”

“No, I mean my first sleepover party at a stranger’s house that I’ve never been to before!” Greg explained, grinning.

“Oh- wait, what!”

Mabel laughed and pointed at her friends. Both girls waved. “They reminded me that we had sleepover plans tonight at the Shack, but it’s so full that we really can’t. So we decided to switch to Candy’s house, and we can’t not take Greg.

“Plus, it would give Dipper a chance to finally film the three million subscriber video.”

“What do you mean? We were just going to- Oh.” He looked from Mabel to Wirt. The plans the twins had settled on for the video held a very interesting potential if he took him instead. “Ohh.”

“Oh? What’s oh?” Wirt raised an eyebrow at him, also caught between glancing from twin to twin. “And- and I dunno, Mabel… I’m not sure if that’s the best idea.”

“Yeah, it is,” Greg piped up.

“No, it’s...” Dipper squeezed his hand, smile slipping into shy territory. “It’s really kind of a good idea.”

“No, it’s a great idea!” Mabel giggled, petting Greg’s hair since it was too wet to ruffle. “Please, Wirt, it’s only one night. And you know I won’t let anything happen to him.” Her gaze fell to the boy, far more serious than normal when she looked back up. “I just don’t want to let him out of my sight yet, okay?”

While Wirt still felt like he was missing something, he was struck by Mabel’s serious sincerity and felt a sympathetic tugging in his chest as he glanced at Greg. His brother looked at him hopefully, eager and expectant. He could understand the feeling all too well.

He sighed heavily, shoulders sagging. “I… I know. I know you’ll take care of him and that you guys will have a lot of fun. Fine, it’s- it’s okay with me, I guess.”

“Yeah! Thanks, Wirt!” Greg latched onto Mabel as best as he could with his water wings and inflatable duck. “Ob-waffle,” he whispered to her.

“Ob-waffle,” she replied, leaning down to rub their noses together. Then she was sweeping him up, hopping through the water. “Girls, he said yes! Sleepover!”

“Obligatory, in unison squeal!” Grenda shouted and the three girls squealed.

Dipper rolled his eyes, but was used to their antics. He released Wirt’s hand to wrap his arm around him instead. It wasn’t until he squeezed companionably that he realized that there was a lot of touching skin. Oh, man. He really didn’t mind, but wondered if the other boy did even as his hands slid up, palm resting just above the waistband of his borrowed shorts.

He slanted him a look, the color in his face deepening. “You’re in to help me out, right?”

While Wirt had tensed at first, not expecting the warmth of his arm and side, he wanted to force himself to relax fast enough so that Dipper wouldn’t retreat. It had been sudden, that was all, and a lot of skin, yeah, but it was nice. So nice, that Wirt couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t actually have to force himself to relax. His body seemed keen on doing that all on its own, comfortable with the contact and the reassuring presence at his side.

He glanced down at the hand on his waist and covered it with his palm, holding it there for a moment to let him know it was okay. “Yeah,” he murmured, remembering that he’d been asked a question and met his look with an open smile. “Of course. Though won’t your subscribers be disappointed that Mabel won’t be in the video with you? Or Soos? Or someone they, you know, care about seeing. I mean me, not you. Other than you. Because of course they care about seeing you and who wouldn’t want to? You’re gorgeous.” Wirt blinked as his words caught up with him, bright smile faltering as his cheeks and ears burned. “Um. Yeah.”

“Wha-? No, I’m not. I’m- wow.” He cleared his throat, averting his gaze for only a moment. “Thanks? I mean, okay. But, um, this video’s supposed to be kind of different anyway. And, um, I’d rather have you there.”

“Oh. Um… okay.” Wirt’s eyes drifted down to the water, only momentarily debating if it was worth it to just sink down and pretend words had never left his mouth and maybe Dipper would forget he’d even said anything. It wasn’t. “Then I’ll be there,” he continued, rolling with this topic. “How is it different, though?”

“It’s not completely terrifying, but that’s all I’m telling you. You just have to see it.”

When Wirt looked at him, he did not appear impressed. “That’s not reassuring in the slightest. You do know that, right?”

Dipper held up his free hand in a placating gesture. “You’ll like it, I promise. Mabel and I found it last summer by accident; it’s really cool.”

This boy was willingly sitting in the shallow end of the pool with him when he could be doing anything else, not to mention trusted him to the point where he’d believe that he’d die before going back on a promise, so Wirt could only take the placating gesture for what it was and believed that whatever mysterious thing he wanted to show him would be something he’d like. “Okay. If you say so,” he agreed, curiosity sufficiently piqued.

 

\----

 

There was an enraged sound that sent squirrels running for cover. A careful distance away, Gideon lowered his opera glasses and glared in their direction at large. Jealousy burned bright and vicious in his gut for the child his future queen was so enamored with. He clearly wasn’t worthy of her attentions, platonic or otherwise.

His glasses were lifted again, gaze skimming over the rest of the Pines family. Stanford, the wretch, and _Dipper_. His jaw clenched, watching him for a few moments as his ire rose. Watching him with that _other boy_. Holding hands and such like they were completely normal. He’d become quite the blight on society, and this useless little town in the middle of nowhere just didn’t care.

His hands clenched tightly enough to dent the extendable handle. Time in prison had given him strength and time to plan just how to use it. It had also given him virtually unlimited access to certain research materials and friends. Gideon’s hands shook, gaze zipping back to watch Mabel wrapping the butterball boy in a tight hug.

“Oh, Mabel, darlin’, you’ve made such a big mistake. Now I know it must be hard livin’ with a disgrace like Dipper, but that’s no excuse for this,” he scolded. “Don’t you worry a hair on your pretty head, though, Lil’ Gideon has it all figured out.”

Behind him, a werewolf’s howl of anguish cut off into gurgles and then the steady sounds of chewing. Blood washed across his stolen loafers and he looked back at his prize to watch it feast. His hand dipped into his pocket, fingers gently caressing a test tube. Confined within was the remedy to the butterball, an incurable painful remedy.

But he would get to that soon enough. There were other stages of the plan to complete, and when the monster turned beady eyes on Gideon and roared, the former child star felt a laugh spill out from between his lips that wasn’t entirely his own. It grew and grew until he was shrieking, eyes bulging, his pompadour hair fraying at the edges.

It ended abruptly and he turned away, the glasses lifting to his eyes to be peered through once again. “Oh, Mabel, we’re almost there. Soon, we’ll move onto the town. And then butterball boy and his brother, and then your entire family will be destroyed. You’ll be my queen then, won’t you?”

 

\----

 

“Ready, Greg?”

“Ready when you are, oh captain, my captain!” Greg looked at him with all the seriousness in the world - well, as serious as one could look with over-inflated water wings and a duck around their waist.

Wirt grinned from where he stood behind him, hands braced on the inner tube to keep it from floating away, then looked over the top of his little brother’s head for Mabel, Candy, and Grenda. “What about you guys?”

Greg had recently discovered that if he bounced enough, the inflatable duck made little waves in the water. His new mission had begun. Create the biggest tidal waves ever. Of course, he couldn’t do it on his own. After Dipper was challenged to a race with Wendy, Greg had bobbed over to Wirt to request his assistance, pretty surprised when he actually agreed despite being all nervous in the water.

Of course, to make it more fun and inspired by Dipper and Wendy’s race, Greg thought it would be great if Mabel and her friends had to fight against the tidal waves in a race of their own! In the shallow end, though, since Wirt and Candy both seemed to like it there best and Mabel and Grenda didn’t complain, so it wasn’t like Dipper’s race, but that didn’t mean it would be any less entertaining.

When the girls cheered their assent from the other side of the shallow end, Wirt pushed down on the inner tube. It took a few waves, but eventually he and Greg had something good going and the seven-year-old whooped with glee, then started the countdown.

“On your marks, get set, go!” Greg bounced a little, trying to help his brother. “Let’s get ‘em, Wirt!”

“We don’t want to overdo it, Greg.”

“Yes we do!”

Wirt second guessed his assessment when Grenda easily powered through and won the first round, though Mabel took first place the second time, eager to reach Greg and squish his cheek to hers because how cute was he bouncing in his inflatable duck. While Greg appreciated the attention - adored it, rather - he wasn’t pleased with how easily they seemed to get past them. Even if it meant lots of hugs.

“We’re failing all inflatable ducks everywhere,” he lamented to his brother and Wirt just laughed. “Oh, I know! I bet if we had snacks, then we’d have more energy for better tidal waves!”

“Oh yeah?” Wirt snorted at his logic. “You don’t think it has anything to do with the fact you’re little and thus make little waves?”

Greg hummed as he thought about that, then shook his head. “Nope. Definitely snacks. I’m hungry anyway.”

Both brothers glanced towards the snack bar over on the other side of the pool. Wirt sighed and ruffled Greg’s wet hair, purposefully making it stick up in weird ways before heading for the ladder. “Alright. But you’re gonna have to get out to eat.”

“Okay. I will when you come back,” he replied, then kicked his way over to Mabel. “Mabel! Look at my fashionable hair-do!”

It was going to be a battle getting him out, Wirt realized. It would result in quite the negotiations and he wasn’t all that confident that he could beat his little brother. He’d have to think of some way to convince him. Maybe that old pool myth about waiting thirty minutes after eating.

As he climbed out, he felt much more at ease about leaving Greg in the water with Mabel and her friends after having just been in it himself. It wasn’t so bad. Sure, he wasn’t going to go jump in a lake any time soon, but this was still progress. He felt good. Wirt looked out at the pool as he walked, grinning when he caught sight of Dipper slicing through the water, decreasing the distance between himself and the redhead he was racing. He stopped to watch for a minute, inwardly rooting for him to pass her, then cringed as Dipper was viciously elbowed in the side and fell behind once again. He was laughing though, so at least he was enjoying himself.

Yeah, Wirt nodded to himself as he continued. He felt good.

Upon reaching the snack bar, however, he was baffled to find that there was nothing left. It wasn’t that late in the day and he’d only seen one group crowd around it in the time that he’d been here. It had been the group of older teens that he recognized from the party as Wendy’s friends. He scanned the pool for them, and found them and their hoard of snacks buried under their towels pretty quickly. After all, they weren’t being very sneaky about it. The tower of towels and chip bags were taller than Greg. The creepy lifeguard didn’t seem to notice them nonetheless, obviously prowling around in search of the snack thieves and walked right by the group of teens buried in their phones.

“Well, that was a waste of a trip,” Wirt muttered to himself, then sighed. He’d just get Greg some ice cream later, and surely Mabel would be on board with that as well. Actually, he was kinda feeling ice cream as well. “Every cloud has a silver lining, sewn into the soft, white underbelly. Shining down on those who need only realize to look up, from the distraction of their misfortune cluttering the- oh, sorry!”

Caught up in his poetry, he almost walked right into someone - probably heading to the snack bar to be sorely disappointed as well. Not wanting to be in the way, Wirt hastily sidestepped, ducking his head and swinging his shoulders to be angled away from them. He overbalanced though. Not an unusual occurrence, no, but when he expected to stumble on the concrete, he found there was nothing beneath him. _The ice broke away and then he was falling._

_Oh no_ was the only coherent thought that blinked in his brain before he crashed into the pool, stupidly inhaling water as his head went under. Water in his throat, in his nose, his eyes. The shock of it dragging him down. Down, down, down to The Unknown, under the ice, water clinging to every inch of his skin, claiming it for the depths of the lake.

As soon as he was surrounded, he went limp. He didn’t fight it. He was too stunned to fight it, really. On the surface the pool was bright and clear, but underneath everything was murky and muted. He was surprised at how calm he was, given the big deal he’d made about it earlier. It was so easy to let the water take him.

Then he remembered that breathing air was very much a necessity and that was something that he currently was not doing. He jerked, flailing as he choked. His body tried to cough, rebelling against the water he’d so brilliantly sucked in. Which way was up? Falling turned him all upside-down so he frantically felt for the wall, something to orient himself. His palms smacked against the concrete, then slid up, hoping that he actually was going up and not down to the bottom of the pool.

His head broke the surface and he tried to inhale, choking on the water he’d already breathed in as he sought purchase on the unyielding cement. It wasn’t malleable like the mud by the lake, he couldn’t grab on, there was nothing to hold onto, _he couldn’t claw himself out of this_.

Face pale and hat askew, Dipper looped an arm around his waist and tugged him towards the shallow end so his feet could find purchase. He half-muttered to himself and half into Wirt’s ear, terrified by his coughing and just terrified in general. “Oh my god. What were you-? Just breathe, man. It’s okay. You’re okay. You just fell in like fricken-!”

Wirt heard his voice, heard the muffled sounds of it - the rise and falling - through the ringing in his ears. But the words themselves were a blur.

_“Wirt? Where’s Greg, Wirt?”_

He didn’t know, but his nose and throat burned as he coughed harder, finally able to get some air on a ragged gasp. Breathe, just breathe. Dipper was saying that, among other things. Wirt grabbed onto his shoulder, something to hold onto, the water no longer threatening to smother him when they could stand on the bottom. He clung to him, to stop Dipper from shaking so much, but then he realized he wasn’t sure if it was actually _him_ who was the one shaking.

“Dipper-?” he wheezed, pressing on his own chest with his other hand.

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s- Are you okay?” His grip gentled, then shifted into careful strokes because, really, they were both shaking. His fingers swept through his hair, brushed his shoulders, rubbed his back. “Are you? I watched you fall, and- Oh my _god_.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered automatically, not really thinking about it as he slumped against him, focusing more on the soft touches. “I’m… yeah. I was in the water… I fell. I fell in and it was cold.” He blinked the water out of his eyes so he could see him better, then straightened his hat for him. “Are you okay? You… you don’t look so…?”

“I’m fine, man. You just scared me. When you didn’t come up right away, I kind of-” Panicked. “I don’t know. Are you okay? Seriously.”

Wirt nodded quickly, then shook his head, still trying to take deeper breaths. “I don’t know?” With both the water and Dipper still touching him, it was hard to take stock of himself. Physically, his chest ached and he felt almost feverish - cold and warm at the same time. Mentally, he was pretty sure he’d checked out. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I scared you. I fell. I didn’t want to fall, but I did. The ice was gone. No, the ground. The ground was gone, there’s no ice here.”

“In this heat? No way.” But he knew where Wirt’s mind was, so started to step back. “Come on. Let’s get out of the pool, okay?”

This time he stuck with his nod. “Okay. Right. Get out of the pool. I was trying to figure out how to get Greg out of the pool so he could eat his snack, but-” He blinked, brow furrowing a little as his breaths came a little faster. “Who saw me fall in? Did everyone? Did they all see it?” Did Greg? Did Mabel?

Dipper blinked, then actually took stock of the crowded pool. Wendy had more seen Dipper’s panicked reaction, so stuck her thumb up, swiveling it up and down in question of the situation. Dipper shook his head and shrugged. Situation ongoing.

Other than that, Gravity Falls had continued its tradition of blissful ignorance. “No. No one pays attention to stuff like that here. Come on.” He hauled himself out of the water, then turned back to offer Wirt help if he needed it.

He took it, frustrated with the way his shaking made it hard to climb out on his own. Once it was only the heat of the sun on his skin, he was able to breathe easier. This was different. This was so, so different. But drowning was drowning and it didn’t matter if it was in a lake or with ice or at a pool or in the sun. The water found its way inside anyway. It didn’t care where you were.

“I should… I think I need to sit down.” He nodded towards the chairs. “But you can swim. You were swimming before, sorry. You don’t have to sit, but I do. Just for a minute.”

“Dude.” Dipper lifted a hand, cupping Wirt’s cheek. “You’re important, okay? I’m not ditching. You need to sit? Let’s go.”

His eyes widened, and something like disbelief crept into them before gratefulness took its place. “Thanks. I’m not- but... thank you.” _I didn’t really want you to go_ managed to stay wedged in his throat, even though not much else did.

“Don’t be dumb, man. Of course you are.” Dipper tucked his arm around Wirt’s wait again, placing himself firmly between him and the pool’s edge as he guided him back to their chairs and nudged him down. Grunkle Stan’s snoring was a relief, leaving explanations unnecessary as he threw a towel over Wirt’s shoulders and dropped down beside him. “Better?”

It was like his cape. The weight of it on his shoulders reassuring. He tugged it around him, keeping his arms inside it. In answer to Dipper’s question, he nodded and pictured the way his Halloween costume had shielded him, given him the identity of “Pilgrim” and the pretense of bravery, heroism. Someone who didn’t have to be so afraid of not only what lurked in the forest, but what lurked under the water as well.

“Yeah,” he croaked, wanting to give him a verbal answer when he looked over at him and noted the concern in his eyes. “Yeah, this is better. Wow. _Ugh_. I can’t believe I just fell in like that.” Except he kinda could. His lack of grace and proneness to waxing poetry at the even the most inconvenient of times didn’t exactly make a good combination.

“It’s okay.” He sounded a bit more like himself, so Dipper banded his arm around his waist again and offered a smile. “You came back up, so... It’s okay.”

“Was I under for a while?” he asked, brow creasing as he struggled to remember how long it had felt in the moment. “It felt… I dunno. Long and not long at the same time, I think.”

“Yes and no?” Dipper shrugged. “It felt longer than it probably was, but I freaked out a little. You didn’t, like, shout or anything. You just dropped.”

Wirt nodded, lightly bumping his shoulder into Dipper’s and letting it rest there. “I don’t think I really realized what was happening. I remember thinking the ground was there, but there was nothing. And then there was water and… when I was in The Unknown, I fell through a weak patch of ice. It happened so suddenly, and it was really cold and I couldn’t move. I just sort of sank. I think that’s what I was feeling like. I’m sorry I freaked you out.”

“It’s okay.” He’d probably said “okay” enough in the past five minutes to last a year, but he was still a little worried. With a small sigh, he shifted a little to wrap both arms around him. “How you feeling now?”

Well, the hug certainly improved things, in his perspective. “I think I’m good. Still a little rattled, but other than that…” He shrugged, then slipped one arm out from under the towel to wind around him, hold him back a little. “I’m okay, Dipper. Not gonna be jumping back in the pool anytime soon, but I’m okay,” he told him, lightening his tone as he offered him a shaky smile.

He glanced, or intended to glance, at the smile. His own lips parted to offer... something, some words of reassurance, but his mind was taken aback by a simple desire - _kiss him_. It would probably be okay. They’d admitted to liking one another, there’d been a lot of hugging, and they’d even shared a bed two nights in a row - in full pajamas and an unspoken space between them - but still.

Dipper reached up, shifted the bill of his cap to the side and leaned forward. He let their brows rest together and smiled back, eyes closing on a sigh. Yes, the want was there. Yes, it probably would’ve been okay. But he had a feeling it would be a pretty big shock to both of their systems, and he doubted either of them were up for it.

“If it was up to Mabel, we’d be here all day. But we can head back to the Shack.”

Wirt allowed his gaze to rove freely over Dipper’s face, committing the smile to memory, pesky poetic thoughts jumping at the opportunity to find words to describe it and the feelings that it inspired. That he inspired.

“That’s okay,” he murmured. “I don’t want to get in the way of them having fun. I mean, I already can’t go back to helping Greg make tidal waves and there weren’t any snacks left and… It’s okay. We can stay. I mean, Greg’s gonna get hungry eventually and want to leave. Besides, don’t you have a race to finish? You looked pretty good out there.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure Wendy broke one of my ribs. She’s all elbows.” He leaned back but not away, keeping Wirt close. “Besides, they’ve got a sleepover to plan and I’ve got a video to setup for and research to do.”

Wirt glanced down, resting his palm against the side he saw him get jabbed in. It was forward, for him at least, but after the afternoon they’d had, it felt like the right thing to do. Swallowing thickly, he rubbed his thumb in gentle circles.

“Think you can manage that with a broken rib?” He flicked his gaze back up, smile tentative, gauging his reaction.

“Maybe. We’ll have to actually get going and find out for sure, I guess.” Dipper returned the smile easily enough, though his heart was playing hopscotch in his chest, “Starting to feel a little better, though.”

“Good.” Wirt cleared his throat, then removed his hand to huddle under the towel once more. “I’ll uh- I’ll go tell Greg it’s time to go now then. Maybe that way we’ll be able to leave in a reasonable amount of time.”

“I’ll go with you,” he offered. “Have to tell Mabel anyway.”

Wirt stood, a little wobbly-kneed, but altogether alright as he took the towel with him. “Think there’s any chance our siblings will listen to us the first time we ask?” he questioned with a grin, the cries of delight from said siblings breaching their little bubble as they headed towards them.

Dipper laughed. “I think we both know the answer to that. We’ll have to resort to br-” He stopped abruptly, brow furrowing. “Sheriff Blubs!” he called, snagging Wirt’s hand to detour. “Hey, Sheriff Blubs, I-”

“Well, if it isn’t the city boy.” The plump, dark-skinned man pushed up the brim of his uniform hat, but was otherwise dressed for a day at the pool.

His partner, his physical polar opposite, appeared dangerously close to squirting sunscreen into his eye, Deputy Durland swatting the bottom of the nearly empty bottle. “City booooy,” he echoed. “City boy.”

Dipper waved his free hand, dismissing it for the time being. “Listen, I called earlier but no one picked up. I wanted to ask about Gideon-”

“Oh, Lil’ Gideon.” The deputy rescued his eye, pressing the bottle to his heart.

The sheriff chuckled. “I haven’t heard anyone talk about Lil’ Gideon since he escaped last month.”

“Last _month_?!”

“Mmhm. Him and another inmate just got up and left one night. The Gleefuls left, too, after Bud threw a big old sale and sold off his cars. We haven’t heard anything from him since,”

“He was at the Shack Saturday night.”

Deputy Durland cocked his head to the side. “Bud?”

“No, Gideon. He was at the Shack the other night.” But they hadn’t seen any signs of another inmate. He glanced to Wirt, relieved they hadn’t ended up going anywhere after dark. “If he left with his family last month, he’s back now.”

“Alright, we’ll keep our eyes open,” the sheriff promised.

Dipper knew from experience that that was the only thing they were likely to do, but only sighed. At least he had a new piece to his puzzle. “Thanks. Come on, Wirt.”

Bidding the sheriff and deputy a hasty goodbye, Wirt followed after him, concern knitting his brow. “So… those guys will take care of everything, right? I mean, you and your family won’t have to deal with uh… Gideon on your own, right?”

“We always have to deal with Gideon when he escapes. Honestly, I think Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland were zapped too many times by the Blind Eye Society when that was still a thing.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“But what could he have been doing for a month?” he continued. “There’s no way he just hung around here and waited for me and Mabel to come back, and for his family to just leave? I’d wondered where Bud’s lot had gone, but I didn’t think... A _month_.”

“You think he’s been planning something?” Wirt glanced to Mabel and Greg. “And him coming over the other night was the start of it?”

Dipper looked up, gaze traveling to their siblings. “That has to be it. And he must be connected to the werebeasts. I don’t know why he would’ve taken a month to start, though. Could be gathering all the pieces, but what are they, and what picture are they supposed to make?

“Okay, we’re definitely heading back to the Mystery Shack. I’ve got some work to do. Want to be my sounding board?”

Wirt blinked, a bit taken aback by the request since he didn’t really know anything about this Gideon guy and wasn’t entirely sure how much help he’d be regarding the situation, but he nodded all the same. “Sure. If you think it’ll help.”

“Yeah, it’ll help. I like the way your brain works, so you’ll help a lot.” Dipper gave him a grin and his hand a squeeze. “So what should we bribe them with to get them out of there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is Gideon going to do to our darling Mystery Best Friends? Nothing good, that's for sure. 
> 
> As the mystery continues, pool shenanigans carry on, blissfully unaware of what's to come~


	10. Chapter 10

“Old Man McGucket still doesn’t have all of his memories back, and he’ll probably never be sane again, but...” Dipper shrugged, offering Wirt a smile.

They were sitting on his bed in the attic, the three original journals opened to various pages and spread out in front of them. He’d been doing his best to explain some of the more Gideon-centric adventures and one or two others that had shaped Gravity Falls and its residents into the crazed people they were. It would be easier to bounce his ideas off of him if he had a better handle on all the players, and he’d seemed interested enough.

“Still following along?”

“Yeah. Man, I can’t imagine willingly destroying your own mind like that. I mean, sure there’s memories I wish I didn’t have, but…” He shook his head, letting himself trail off as he scanned one of the pages of a journal.

He wasn’t sure which one without being able to see the cover, but that hardly mattered in the great scheme of things. It was a bit of a comfort actually, looking over the journals that he recalled glimpses of in The Unknown, whenever the boy had been willing to share the contents with him. Sure, he’d had the page, but it still didn’t seem real until it was back in its rightful book. The third journal, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“I dunno. It’s like you said before. Stuff happens.” Wirt leaned into him, then flicked his gaze up from the journals with a frown. “Do you think that’s something Gideon would be interested in? The memory gun?” From what he’d heard so far, that kid was seriously twisted.

“Possibly. I just don’t know if he knows about it. Bud was part of the Society, but we erased his memories of it.” Dipper hooked an arm around his waist in what was quickly becoming a habit, and rubbed his temple with his free hand. “I guess if he’d told Gideon beforehand or if one of the members had worn Gideon’s surveillance buttons to a meeting he would’ve seen or heard about it. That could be something, but McGucket has the gun and the blueprints at his place.”

But Dipper still dragged over one of his own journals to add the suggestion to his mounting list. “It’s possibly a component, but... ugh.” He slid down until he could pillow his head in Wirt’s lap. “If it is, it’s the end game. He’s probably going to use it on Mabel to make her forget about me and Grunkle Stan. But what’s the main game? What could he get out of harming werebeasts?”

“Maybe he’s trying to gather them? And hurting the ones who don’t go willingly. It would explain why there’s only blood at the dens, but… but not the sticks.” Wirt’s brow furrowed as he hummed, looking down at him, fingers idly tracing the faded pine tree on his hat as he thought. “No, that’s dumb. I mean… I don’t see how an army of werebeasts would help him with anything. From what you’ve told me, that doesn’t really seem like his style. He’s manipulative and misleading... Huh. Could be a distraction.”

“Hey, that’s not dumb. He-” A distraction? He pushed the bill of his cap back to stare at Wirt, jaw slack. “That’s it! That has to be it! Oh, man!” He sat up quickly, throwing his arms around the other teen. A laughing kiss was pressed to the corner of Wirt’s eye. “I love the way your brain works! That’s it!”

Dipper scrambled from the bed and sped to a whiteboard. He wrote quickly, thrilled as the pieces began to fall into place. “A distraction! Of course it’s a distraction! Werebeasts don’t matter to him - nothing matters to him! But they matter to me!

“Gideon thrives on being misleading - that’s right. _You’re_ right.” He threw a grin over his shoulder, verve and energy pouring from him. “Him showing up here Saturday - distraction. Disturbing the werebeast habitats - distraction.” He wrote a question mark at the top, circling it, then took a step back.

It was still rather bare, but the mystery was fresh yet and he had just been handed every single edge piece. “Okay, so what’s he distracting us from? The sticks! Are those a clue or another distraction?” He wrote it in both columns for the time being. “What is your game, you little creep?”

They’d need more clues, but for now Dipper was thrilled by progress. Laughing again, he spun and bounded back to his bed, climbing back in to drag Wirt into another hug. “Thanks, man! I- thanks! I knew you were smart.” He was practically vibrating with discovery, rubbing against him and nuzzling like an excitable kitten. The affection knocked his hat clean off, but he didn’t worry about it. Two more kisses were pressed to Wirt’s skin - his neck where he nuzzled and then his cheek - before he was up and scrambling for the door.

“Mabel!” he shouted, bolting out of the room. “Mabel, I’ve got it!”

Struck dumb since the first kiss Dipper gave to him, Wirt remained rooted to the bed as his mind remained blank. The entire whirlwind that had been Dipper Pines - a whirlwind of inspiration and delight - shocked him with its sudden arrival, and even more so that apparently he thought he was smart. He liked his brain and he thought he was smart and he-

He kissed him not once, but three times. Wirt’s face burned, spreading into his cheeks and the tips of his ears and he was pretty sure he wasn’t breathing. What was with him and air today? Slowly, he exhaled, his fingers rising to brush his cheek where Dipper’s lips had last been. He’d been so happy. He’d been so adorable. Wirt’s heart skipped a few beats before settling into a hard pounding in his chest. After having to watch his despair and frustration the day before with the mystery of the werebeasts, a heavy cloud washing the world with its moribund mist, dawn was breaking, her fingertips parting the gloom with rays of light to return brightness to the soul brimming with curiosity and kindness.

That was a terrible poem, but it was the general idea. Wirt blamed it on the fact that he could still feel phantom brushes of his lips on his skin. He shivered, pleasantly and due to the chill that seemed to envelope the room with Dipper’s disappearance. Careful not to disturb the journals - even though Dipper himself had paid them little mind when he bounced back to the bed to embrace him - Wirt slid his way off the bed and immediately tripped, landing hard on the wood floor.

Okay, what was with him and air, and also what was with him and gravity today? Sure he was clumsy, but this was getting ridiculous. Wirt smacked his still warm face. He had to get it together. Or did he? How did Dipper expect him to get it together after being so adorable? And kissing and snuggling?

And he called _him_ cute. With a snort, Wirt shook his head and pushed up from the floor, grabbing Dipper’s fallen cap in the process, then followed him out of the room. He paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at the whiteboard, some of the butterflies fading. Whatever this creep Gideon was planning, there was no doubt in his mind that Dipper would be able to figure it out.

“Wirt! Did you fall on your face again?” Greg’s voice reached him as he came to the top of the stairs.

“No!” he called back, frowning at his brother’s assumption even though he couldn’t see him, then hurried down the steps, clutching the hat tightly. “Maybe…”

Mabel laughed, holding her bag to her chest as she walked towards the stairs from her room, her twin chattering excitedly at her. He stopped and grinned when he saw Wirt, and she giggled. “Wirt, Candy and Grenda are on their way over. We’re going to the arcade before we hit Candy’s house. Do you want to tag along to see where she lives? Take a break from all the boring conspiracy stuff,” she teased, elbowing her brother.

“It’s not boring,” he defended. “But I’m in. We’ve got a couple hours to kill before night falls.”

Wirt smiled gratefully at him and offered him back his hat, his gaze averting before his face had time to color further as Greg hopped up to him on one foot, singing a little made-up song about sleepovers to himself. “Yeah. That’d be great if you guys don’t mind,” Wirt replied, allowing Greg to turn his arm into an imaginary guitar.

“Sleepovers, sleepovers, staying up all night at a sleepover-”

“It’ll be fun! Plus, free fifty dollar credit! Each!”

Dipper fist bumped when she offered, then explained for their benefit. “It’s because we banished a level seven that was haunting the place last summer.”

“Level seven?” Wirt tilted his head to one side as Greg tilted the rest of his body the other way, pausing his guitar-playing to gasp.

“Haunting? You mean like a ghost?” Greg released Wirt’s arm to throw his own in the air, causing his brother to overbalance and stumble. “There’s a ghost at the arcade!”

Dipper laughed, snagging Wirt’s wrist to keep him upright. “There _was_ a ghost at the arcade. Mabel and I made it leave.”

That didn’t seem to deter Greg. “There’s a ghost in the arcade! Finally, I get to meet a real ghost!” He darted past the teens to run back into Mabel’s room so he could grab Jason Funderburker and share in the great news.

“Past tense doesn’t really affect him, sometimes,” Wirt huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at Dipper’s hand. “We’ll see if the video games distract him from a ghost hunt of his own.”

Mabel laughed, slinging her bag onto her shoulder. “Sure they will! We’ll have to keep him away from Fight Fighters though.”

“The game only comes to life if you ever the ultimate power code,” Dipper reminded her, “and we painted over it.”

“True. Oh!” Mabel tugged at her sweater, getting Wirt’s attention. “This one’s yours! Listen!” She pressed the top of the clarinet image she’d knitted onto blue fabric, and a simple, bluesy melody spilled out. “I was going to ask you to play something for me to put in here, but... You know. Things happen. Do you like it anyway?”

Like it? Wirt’s jaw-dropped as music - actual music - played from her sweater - a clarinet sweater. His sweater. Just like the elephant sweater was in honor of Greg, this one was… “Oh my gosh. Mabel, I-” He was not going to cry over a sweater. “It’s the same color as the cape and it’s a clarinet and you wanted _me_ to play something for it? No, no, it’s great. It’s better than great. It’s- wow, I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know what I have been saying. Someone say something to shut me up now, please.”

Because he knew it was coming, Dipper released Wirt and stepped back to give his twin enough room to tackle him. “I’m so glad you like it!” she cheered, rocking as she hugged him. “I had so much trouble with this! The only thing I could think of for pilgrims were all Thanksgiving sweaters, and then I was going to put the hat but the gnomes already want me to marry them. And then I thought I would just stitch on a poem, but I don’t know any of your favorite poets. But then you like the clarinet, and it was perfect!”

She leaned back, grinning broadly as she cupped his cheeks. “You should still play me something for it. I can change the audio really easily. Please play something so I can have it when you guys go back to Massachusetts, okay? Think about it!”

“I- um. Okay. Yeah, I’ll play you something,” he agreed, now in awe of both the sweater and her reaction to it.

She squealed, throwing her arms around his neck again and bobbing up to her toes to rub their cheeks together. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome?” He awkwardly hugged her back, unused to having his face squished quite so much. Even by Greg. “I mean, I should be thanking you. I didn’t really expect you to make a sweater based off me. So, uh, thank you.”

“Of course I did! I love you!” She tugged at him, kissing his forehead, and spun away when her phone chimed. “They’re here! Come on, Greg!” She raced to her room to get both child and animals, both frog and pig naturally being brought along for a sleepover.

Dipper tucked his hands in his pockets, chancing a laugh since she was out of earshot. “It’s a good thing she spends so much time with Greg. I think she’d kill you.”

“Honestly I feel like you’re both trying to kill me right now.” He rubbed his forehead lightly, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he looked at him. “I have no idea what I’m even doing that warrants this much affection.”

“You’re just you. It’s enough.”

“Dipper! Wirt! You guys in for the arcade?” was bellowed from the bottom of the stairs.

Dipper glanced down to see Candy and Grenda, one waiting far more calmly than the other. He laughed. “Yeah, man. Mabel’s just getting-”

“Alright, party people, let’s go!” Mabel sped by, Greg faithfully on her shoulders and her pig strapped close in an old Huggy Wuvvy Tummy Bundle.

“We will go to my house first and drop everything off,” Candy insisted and the girls began to squeal as though it had been days rather than hours since they’d last seen one another.

Greg joined in the cheering as well, waving one hand in the air as he held onto Jason Funderburker with the other. Their frog looked up at Wirt with what he imagined to be a ‘save me’ expression - as far as frogs could convey their thoughts, that is - and he couldn’t help chuckling as he went up to Mabel and Greg to rescue the frog for the time being. His little brother relinquished his hold on him without complaint. Since he’d be in the midst of sleepover shenanigans all night, it seemed only right to let him enjoy the calm before the hurricane.

“You can walk with us, guy,” Wirt told him, scratching the top of his head gently.

Mabel peered around the corner, waving at her uncle. Eyes glued to the television, comfortable in blue boxers and an aged wife-beater, Grunkle Stan waved when she called out, “Bye! We’ll be back tomorrow! Dipper and Wirt will be back sooner than that. We’ll all be careful and behave ourselves. Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, kid.”

She spun back to the group and lead the way out, hopping more than walking. Candy turned to Dipper, blinking at him from behind wide frames. “Dipper, Grenda and I finished compiling our top ten question list for this summer. Are you going to answer them?”

“Look, Candy-”

Grenda punched his shoulder hard enough to have him staggering a couple of steps to the side. “The fan page demands answers!”

“I’ll think about it.” He rolled his shoulders.

Wirt made sure to keep his distance from Grenda, fairly certain his bones would not be able to withstand a punch the way Dipper’s had, as he fell into step beside him. “Top ten questions?”

“For the facebook page,” Candy clarified, pushing up her glasses. “Dipper doesn’t know how it works, so he lets me and Grenda run it instead.”

“I know _how_ it works. I just don’t have the patience for it. And the questions are just frequently asked things from the previous summer or just questions in general.”

“Oh.” Wirt nodded, then leaned forward a bit to address the two girls. “What are the questions for this summer?”

“I bet one of them is about-”

“Greg, if you say ‘about a ghost,’ I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to-”

“I wasn’t!” Greg cut in before his brother could make up whatever threat he had up his sleeve. “I was gonna say I bet one of them’s about climbing trees. There’s so many trees here! And Dipper, you look like a fellow tree climbing expert to me.”

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “Is that because he has a pine tree on his hat?”

Greg opened his mouth to refute that, but after a beat closed his lips tightly, cheeks puffing up a bit as he glanced away from them. “Yes.”

Dipper caught up to them, transferring Greg from Mabel’s shoulders to his own. “Can we just answer Greg’s top ten questions and post them? Yes, I climb trees. It’s a good angle for filming things or setting photography traps and it’s kind of just fun.”

“I knew it!” Greg chirped, hugging the top of Dipper’s head. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” he asked next.

“Chocolate. Wait.” He narrowed his eyes a bit, bouncing to amuse the youngest of their group. “Except rocky road exists. And butter pecan. Alright, next question. That one’s way too hard.”

“It is,” Greg agreed. “Fair enough. Are you in love with Wirt yet? You’ve been a thing for two whole days now and I’m just not sure how long these things are supposed to take.”

“ _Greg_!” Wirt squeaked, voice cracking so he couldn’t sound nearly as stern as he intended to, going pale as he stared at the two of them in horror.

Dipper nearly tripped over his own feet, but managed to stay upright with the kid on his shoulders. Color flooded his face and he couldn’t even see the demon child when he was behind his head. When he glanced back anyway, gaze latching onto the focus of the question, he opened his mouth to deny it - _No way, man, I don’t- Things don’t just happen like that, and_ \- but the words stuck in his throat, blocked by his rapidly beating heart.

No, things like that didn’t happen. But did any of this just happen? He’d barely been there twenty-four hours before Dipper had bounced from “he’s kind of cute” to “oh, _no_ , he’s cute,” and everything had been mounting from there. Like a really big, really stupid avalanche on top of his brain. The guy he’d spent nearly three years believing to be dead was there and it was monumental enough that everything else inside of him seemed to be leaping to match the impact.

He swallowed and ducked his head, shading his face. Things like this didn’t happen, but his heart was as gone as Mabel’s. “Not...” Dipper cleared his throat. “Not as long as you think, Greg.”

Wirt’s heart leapt into his throat and before he realized it he’d hurried ahead to fall beside Dipper and reached up to take his little brother from him, to give him a chance to breathe and apologize because that was a huge question and why hadn’t he reminded Greg about filters? But before he could, Greg had already latched onto Dipper tighter, attempting to lean forward to see his face despite it probably being an impossible feat.

“Oh no! Dipper, I’m sorry!” he blurted out, patting the top of his head since it was what he could reach. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You can forget that question. I’m sorry.” He looked over at Wirt, the guilt and worry in his eyes striking him. “I’m sorry. Did I ruin it?”

“No, Greg…”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure, though Dipper’s answer led him to believe otherwise. He knew Greg was picking up on his body language more than the words though, and he couldn’t really answer for Dipper himself - and he’d still apologize later, when Greg couldn’t hear - but it was the only thing he could say to his little brother when he looked like that. He was seven, he didn’t have a filter. He didn’t do it on purpose. Wirt shifted Jason Funderburker under one arm, hesitantly reaching out to Dipper in case he wanted to pass Greg over to him.

Noticing the movement, Dipper looked up, the color in his face still glaringly obvious, and he honestly did consider pushing Greg to his brother and changing the subject as fast as he could. But he couldn’t make himself do it. It was a harmless question, really, and he was just a great big idiot.

“No,” he agreed, “you didn’t ruin it. It’s fine, Greg.”

Mabel came up to them, fretting a bit over her boys but determined not to show it. She took Greg herself and jingled a set of keys in her embarrassed brother’s face, “Look what I stole!” she sing-songed, pleased when his lips twitched.

“No way.”

“Come on, bro-bro.” She leaned against him briefly and he took the keys.

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, meeting Wirt’s gaze. “You want shotgun?”

As mortified by his little brother’s question - more for his own sake and the fact that his heart couldn’t quite handle if the answer was yes or no - Wirt made sure to keep eye contact and smiled as he placed his hand on his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

The physical contact, the smile - they catapulted butterflies into Dipper’s stomach and he felt a seize of panic, Oh, god, he was kind of basically in love with this guy. This shy, poetry writing, clarinet playing guy. Oh, no. His gaze dropped, but quickly lifted again. He could deal with this. He’d dealt with something similar before, and at least Wirt liked him back.

He covered Wirt’s hand on his shoulder, offering a grin in return. This was okay. He’d be okay. His heart was going to shatter into a million pieces when he left at the end of the week, but he’d take what time he had and not waste it panicking. “If you flip out like our dad does, I’m kicking you to the backseat.”

“No flipping out. Got it.” Wirt nodded. “I'm pretty sure the fact that there are actually doors and a roof on the car will make it easier to stomach than the golf cart- wait. Your car isn't 'modified' like the cart, is it?” he teased.

“No. Soos and I haven’t had time yet.”

“Plus mom and dad would probably kill him. We just got this car.”

“There’s also that.” Dipper gave Wirt’s hand a squeeze before turning away. He hit a button on the key fob, unlocking the doors for Grenda and Candy, who immediately slid into the backseat. Mabel gave her brother an encouraging smile before joining them, tugging the seatbelt over herself and Greg. Waddles was, to his relief, settled on Candy’s lap for her gentle petting to soothe him.

Dipper went to the driver’s door, but stood on the running boards and grinned at Wirt over the top of the vehicle. “Come on, man. You’re safe with me.”

Wirt returned the smile before he swung into the passenger seat, settling Jason Funderburker on his lap. “Yeah, I know.”

 

\----

 

Dipper’s backpack was full. Three cameras, two tripods, and a blanket were packed together. He had one of the journals in his bag as well, two others in his pockets just in case this didn’t quite go as planned. And, of course, to show Wirt just what they were going to be looking at.

He swallowed, throat uncomfortably dry as he looked over his shoulder at the other boy. The woods were quiet that night, the tires of their bicycles whirring over fallen leaves. The only lights were the sparkling stars overhead and the waxing moon. And, of course, a couple of glowsticks that had made Wirt laugh when he’d seen them.

He’d laughed quite a bit at the arcade, too, when he forgot that there were other people around them. And Greg had gotten through the last of his ten questions, finally even hearing a ghost story while flanked by Wirt and Dipper in front of skeeball.

Dipper smiled, bringing his bike to a stop just before they reached an oasis in the woods. “We’ll leave these here,” he instructed, shifting his bag as he propped his bike up on a tree beside the one Wirt was borrowing.

Their hands found each other, both reaching out, and their fingers entwined as Dipper lead the way through the brush of trees and into a sort of paradise.

Where the forest they’d just left had required glowsticks as an external light source, here the oasis created its own glow. The area was awash in soft purples, deep blues, and shimmering greens. Every rock and blade of grass had its own distinct color, yet they all blended beautifully, peacefully.

The woods parted for this place, it seemed, and Dipper’s lips twitched into a small smile as he gazed skyward. There was nothing to dampen the stars’ brilliance, their distant lights reflecting off the water of the pond before them. He hadn’t been entirely certain, not after the events of the pool that day, if this was really the best place to come, but the tiny waves made by an almost silent waterfall reflected the mysterious hues tenfold.

“What do you think?” he murmured, almost hating to disturb the tranquility with words.

At first, Wirt’s response was simply the tightening of his fingers around Dipper’s. His lips parted in honest amazement, eyes wide as they skimmed their surroundings once, twice, and then a third time. From the whispering grasses to the calm waters, he wanted to absorb it all.

“‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ though I am keen to disagree. The light the stars share with the earth agleam create a scene worthy only of dreams.” Wirt’s words flowed freely, though hushed as if they’d break this moment, and he took only the smallest of steps forward. “It thrives and flourishes without fail, exultant in the face of distance. Stars and soil millions of miles apart, yet I still feel it quiver in my heart. No soul can find a flaw in this beauty, I know without question, without doubt. For this that has transcended both space and time is no different from yours and mine.”

As the last word lingered in the air between them, he blinked back into awareness and a light dusting of pink colored his cheeks. “Um… sorry about that. Got carried away.”

“No, that’s... That’s kind of the perfect reaction.” Though he would rather not, Dipper only had a limited time to set up, so he released Wirt’s hand after a squeeze and swung his backpack around to dig out his equipment. “Now I’m curious what you’ll say when the actual show starts.”

“Show?” Wirt hummed his inquiry, taking the opportunity apart from him to walk closer to the waterfall. “What is this place exactly?”

“I don’t know. It’s not in the original journals. It’s hinted at on one of the pages, but that’s all. I was never really in a big hurry to explore what was on that page, though, until Mabel and I came across here.” As Dipper spoke, he spread out a blanket for them to sit on a good distance away. The creatures they were filming were easily disturbed, and he didn’t want to ruin this, not when he was so enraptured already. Not when his eyes glowed so prettily in the strange natural lights.

He laughed at himself a little, attaching one of his cameras to a tripod and trying to find the best angle to place it. “You know, you’re lucky.”

Wirt blinked, turning away from the sparkling water. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“You’ve got all these amazing words in your head, and the best I can come up with is, ‘man, his eyes are pretty.’” He used Wirt to focus his camera, biting his lip. “Okay, beautiful. You’re kind of, completely beautiful.”

“I-” He didn’t have words for that. Wirt ducked his head, feeling Dipper’s gaze through the stare of the camera. His fingers raked through his hair, heart stumbling over itself in its attempt to keep beating. “I dunno. Sometimes keeping things simple works just as well,” he murmured, tapping the toe of his shoe against the gleaming grass. “Besides, you’re an action kinda guy, and I totally admire that. I mean, you think it all through, too, but you don’t let it hold you back. Words can sometimes get in the way. Show not tell, right?” He lifted his gaze and flashed him a little half-smile.

“Yeah. It’s hard to get a good balance of both when you need it, though.” He grabbed his second camera and would’ve thrilled Greg by how easily he scaled a tree to tuck it amongst the branches. What they were filming flew, so he aimed this one higher. This video was actually going to have to be edited.

Maybe he could get Mabel to do it.

Dipper jumped down. “Hold the third camera for me real quick. I need to get the intro done and we’ve only got a few more minutes before things kick off.”

“Sure.” Wirt took it carefully, pursing his lips as he focused it on him, pleased by how he continued to appear just as ethereal on camera as he did in-person. “No title card this time?”

“I forgot it,” he admitted with a shrug and turned his attention to the camera to stop staring at Wirt's mouth like the biggest creep.

“Okay, so, just pretend I've got the title card. Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained number whatever because I forgot to look that up.” He shrugged again. “It'll be in the title or the description. Probably both.

“So for this one, we've got something different from normal to celebrate three million subscribers. Like... wow. Who are you people?” Dipper tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Thanks, though, for tuning in and sticking this out through all the terrifying and strange things we've covered in these videos. For this one, we wanted to show that there's more than weird here. Or, I guess more importantly, that the weirdness can be just plain gorgeous. That was an oxymoron but whatever. Enjoy this one, guys, and thanks.”

He looked back up, grinning. “And that's it. I might do a thing at the end to explain or just put it in the description, but I still don't want to ruin the surprise for you.”

“You should. Do a thing at the end. You were... you were really cute.” Wirt flushed as he flicked his gaze up from the camera. “Not- not that you're not still- I mean- I'll just stop now.”

Dipper laughed easily, though pink dusted his face. “Thanks. And, uh, I know that we’re kind of out here to film, but... I was kind of thinking of this as more of a date? Totally weird and unorthodox,” he added quickly, averting his gaze. “But, you know, kind of trying to work with what I’ve got. So, uh, yeah. I think of this as a date, and, um, you can? If you want to? I mean- I don’t know.”

“Oh…” he breathed, taking in the oasis with this new information, heart swelling. “Yeah, I- I want to. I like unorthodox. It suits us.” When his gaze fell back to Dipper, his lips quirked up. “I mean, us meeting in the first place was pretty much weird and unorthodox.”

Wirt stepped forward a little, to hand him the camera back for him to do with it what he would. Their fingers brushed and he purposefully let his touch linger before turning away, heading for the blanket. A date. A mystical, magical date. He could handle this, he nodded to himself as he sat down, glancing at the other boy. Their first date.

Dipper blew out a relieved breath, joining him on the blanket. He stretched his legs out, his back leaned against Wirt’s side. “If you had to guess, what do you think’s out here?”

“Hm.” He tipped his head so he could look up at the sky while also letting it rest against Dipper’s. “Well… you put a camera in a tree, so it’s either really tall or flies. Or likes hanging out in trees, I guess. Pixies? That only come out at certain times?” His smile turned sheepish as he shrugged a little, not wanting to jostle him too much.

“Really close. Really, really close.” Dipper jostled himself when the humming started. He turned his hat to keep the bill from hitting the other teen and spun to wrap his arms around him and keep him close. “You might see flashes of them,” he murmured, resting his chin on Wirt’s shoulder, “but don’t make eye contact if you can avoid it.”

“How come?” Wirt blinked curiously, gaze scanning the clearing for the source of the sound.

“Because they’ll want you, and they can’t have you.” He grinned, giving him a squeeze as the humming grew in volume around them. The colored lights that had been glowing around them began to move in time, rising and falling over the water, creating whirlpools in the shallow depths. The small waterfall seemed to burst, rivulets swirling across the air to add more shining sparkle to the air.

There was a flash now and again - the laughing, singing nymphs showing off for one another and for the two who listened to their song. When Dipper’s hat blew off his head, he only laughed warmly into Wirt’s ear. “Watch the trees,” he whispered, and found his hand to entangle their fingers.

Wirt shivered, huddling closer to him as he did as he was told. From the boughs hanging overhead, more lights glistened, trickling down towards them. Like an imitation of the waterfall pulsing with the rhythm around it.

He imagined this was what it was like to be surrounded by the stars. A symphony of stars. His breath caught in his chest and he squeezed Dipper’s hand. “They’re so beautiful,” he murmured, unable to look away from the trees and the way the soft globes of light fell, as if rain or snow.

Dipper straightened, gaze lifting to watch his reaction now. He'd seen this show before, so found it easy to become enchanted by the awe in his face instead. “Yeah. It's...” He lifted their hands, feeling stupid, but pressed a kiss to the back of Wirt's anyway. “You fit in pretty well.”

His heart stopped at the gesture, mouth falling open as his attention turned to Dipper. “What?” he gasped, color pooling in his cheeks. “No- no, I’m not- I don’t- thank you?”

Wirt gulped audibly, eyes flicking between their hands, Dipper’s lips, and his face, searching it, memorizing the way the ripples of color danced across his skin and played off his eyes. Oh, he was even more captivating than the trees. He couldn’t avoid eye contact with him even if he wanted to. Dipper’s warning vaguely registered in his mind.

“You can have me,” Wirt told him quietly. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Heart pounding, Dipper shifted to his knees. He bit his lips, gaze dropping to Wirt’s lips and then back up to his eyes. “You can’t...” His free hand lifted, fingertips resting on the side of his face. “Don’t say that unless you mean it, man.”

The touch was so light, but it still made his breath hitch and his mouth tighten. Anticipation thrumming in his veins. He, too, started to raise his hand, hesitating a moment before placing it over Dipper’s.

“I mean it. I do,” he murmured. “You can have me.”

Dipper leaned forward, hesitating only long enough to smile, and pressed their lips together. What else could he do? He was enchanted, enraptured by this shy poet, and the little gasp Wirt let out was sweeter than the song that played around them still.

Wirt tried to stay perfectly still, convinced that any movement at all would shatter the moment. He’d never been kissed - and had certainly never initiated a kiss - before, and nothing he’d ever read about them could begin to compare to the sensation surging through at such a simple thing. Lips brushing lips, soft and gentle and with no expectations. No demands. Just feelings. Try as he might not to, Wirt tilted into him, just a bit, and closed his eyes. Really strong feelings. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were what he ended up drowning in.

It wasn’t Dipper’s first kiss, but he was willing to call it the best. Feeling Wirt relax against him, degree by degree, had warmth flooding him. His thumb caressed his cheek in gentle circles, his other hand leaving Wirt’s to cup his hip instead and carefully turn him so they could press together.

“We’ll trade,” he whispered, giving them both a moment. “I’ll have you, and you can have me.” It was an easy promise to make, as easy as kissing him again as the world around them continued its sparkling melody.

“Okay,” Wirt breathed when they broke apart again, dizzy from the rush he so easily inspired. He opened his eyes, as if simply seeing him would cement this as reality. He lit up, nudging their foreheads together as he grinned. “Staggered by you I have become, the brilliance that your mind exudes. I am caught up in every word you speak, entranced, enhanced, and imbued,” he recited, then leaned back a bit. “That um… that was part of the… of the poem I wrote you.”

Dipper laughed, unable to help it. He wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to sit in that magical oasis and just kiss him for hours, the embarrassed stutter and the poetry not helping dissuade that line of thought in the slightest. But he settled for a hug. “You’ve gotta stop teasing me with that. I have to read it at some point.”

“It’s really not that… well, I was gonna say not anything special, but it was kinda my wake-up call to how… deep I was in, I guess.” Wirt banded his arms around Dipper’s waist. “So it is kinda special. But you know, I could just write you a new one and you’d never have to see that one.” He pursed his lips against his babbling, resting his chin on his shoulder, watching the forest lights dance as he debated something. “Or I could… I could show it to you when we get back.”

“Yeah.” Dipper toyed with the hair at the nape of Wirt’s neck, smiling. “I want to read it. I like your poetry.”

Wirt squeezed him a little tighter and nodded. “Okay. Okay, yeah, because I’ll probably lose my courage if it’s not tonight and then I’ll change my mind and probably burn it and I don’t really want to do that.”

“No, way, don’t burn it!” he exclaimed, grinning as he leaned back. “Are you like this with the rest of the things you write? Hiding them and stuff, I mean.”

“Hiding?” Wirt arched an eyebrow, stiffening a bit. “I’m not hiding the things I write. I just don’t show them to people- well, I guess that’s kinda like hiding,” he muttered to himself, then shook his head as he relaxed, losing some of the defensiveness. “Most of the time no one really knows I’ve written anything. Greg does because he doesn’t stay out of my room. Ever. But like… people at school know I like reading poetry, but they don’t know I write it. I just sort of keep it to myself mostly. Except when I start muttering aloud of course, but that’s different.”

Dipper wondered if it was the right time to keep this line of conversation going, but his unfailing curiosity had been piqued. He sat down again, stretching his legs out and tugged at Wirt’s hand, waiting for him to sit beside him before looping an arm around his waist again. “Okay, you don’t have to answer this if it’s a thing, but I want to know... why you keep it to yourself. You’re good at it, you love it, so why kind of hide it?”

Wirt snorted, then bumped his shoulder to Dipper’s. “You haven’t read any of my poems yet, you can’t say I’m good. The stuff I’m babbling might be completely different from the stuff that ends up on paper.” Though he did want to take his question seriously, so he quieted to give it some thought, tucking his legs up to rest his arms on his knees as he searched for the explanation that made the most sense.

“I don’t want to bother people,” he ended up saying. “It’s not just poetry I keep to myself, it’s… it’s pretty much everything. For a long time I wanted to be as close to non-existent as possible. That’s definitely changed since nearly dying and all, existing is suddenly much more appealing after being on the brink, but it’s been kind of a slow progression. After spending so much time trying to fade into the background, I’m still wrapping my head around the idea of putting myself out there. Even if it’s as simple as just being noticed walking down the hall at school.” He shrugged a little, shooting Dipper a half-smile. “So it’s nothing against the poetry in particular.”

“You’re too interesting for the background.” Dipper returned the smile, though it faltered when the wind lifted his bangs. He quickly shoved them back down and scanned the area for his hat.

“Is something wrong?” Wirt asked.

He furrowed his brow, glancing around a little as if that would help him understand. When his gaze fell on Dipper again it really sank in. His hat. He didn’t even take it off when he went swimming. It was almost like it was permanently attached to his head aside from when he slept and even then Wirt had been a little surprised to find that it actually came off, despite the ridiculousness of the thought. Of course he knew it came off, he’d seen it off before, but that still didn’t change the fact that it was obviously important to him.

“I’m sure it didn’t go far,” Wirt assured him, placing his hand at the small of Dipper’s back while he actively searched for the cap this time. “It’s not like it’s windy or anything. We’ll find it.”

“No. Yeah. I know. It’s not a big deal. You already know about the- It’s not a big deal,” he repeated, but kept running his fingers through his bangs to keep them down.

The nervous gesture didn’t escape his notice, so Wirt rubbed his back in slow, gentle circles. “Know about…?” he trailed off, unable to recall any specific mention of why his hat was important to him.

Had he said something? Oh man, what if he said something and he hadn’t been paying attention? He was pretty sure he’d been paying attention to most everything he’d divulged to him, but what if he’d said something crucial during the occasional five second time lapses that he spent just shamelessly admiring him?

No… no he was still pretty sure he hadn’t said anything about the hat. “What uh… what do you mean?” He cleared his throat a little, trying to come off as casual - and supportive because this clearly meant a lot to him.

“Oh my god, you don’t even remember. I could’ve stayed quiet. I should’ve stayed quiet.” But it was too late now, he realized. He could try and downplay it, but he had to admit it was there. “It’s nothing. It’s just... It’s my stupid birthmark, okay? It’s nothing.”

The panic that seized Wirt at not remembering whatever it was faded in an instant. “Your birthmark?” He blinked. That he did remember. “Yeah, I remember that. You said it’s why you go by Dipper, which makes total sense… is that why you wear the hat all the time?” Wirt tilted his head, pressing closer to him.

“Well, yeah, duh, I mean...” Dipper quickly averted his gaze, tugging at a lock of hair. “I know it’s stupid, okay? Don’t... don’t make fun of me for it.”

His hand froze, palm still against his back, and Wirt’s eyes widened as he stared at him. “What…?” Heart thudding painfully, because he recognized insecurity like the back of his hand, Wirt turned to face him and clutched his shoulder. “I won’t,” he promised. “I’d never do that, and that’s a rock fact. And mine are always true, so you don’t have to worry about it being something I’m making up on the spot. I’d never make fun of you for something like this. And it’s not stupid. If it’s important to you, then it’s absolutely not stupid.”

He saw it now, the hat, over by the trunk of a tree just beyond Dipper’s shoulder. He gave him a firm squeeze, then got up to fetch it. Dusting it off a little, he examined the faded cap with new understanding. Back at the blanket, he knelt down and fit it over his hair.

“Honestly?” he continued, making sure his bangs stayed curled over the mark. “I think it’s kind of a cute birthmark and just another piece in the puzzle that makes you you. I mean, you wouldn’t be Dipper Pines without it. But I completely understand if you want to keep it to yourself. I respect that.”

Dipper’s smile was slow in coming, but it was warm and grateful as both words and the returned article soothed. “Thanks. There’s a reason only Wendy, Mabel and you even know it exists so- Wait, you didn’t tell anybody right? Like, you didn’t tell Greg? He’s great, and I love him and all, but there’s no way he can keep a secret. The only reason Mabel even knows is because she was around before I started hiding it all the time since she’s _awful_ at keeping secrets.”

Wirt’s lips twitched up. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him. I mean, you did tell me not to tell anyone, though I guess I didn’t really realize how important it was at the- wait. I’m one of three people who know it exists? _Me_?” His eyes widened as he grabbed Dipper’s shoulder again. “Why the heck did you tell me if it was so important?”

A little taken aback at the reaction, he blinked. “Because you’re important.”

“But we’d only known each other for- for- not even a day! How could you have possibly thought that then?” Wirt shook him a little, as if that would shake some sense into Dipper as well. “You just told me the only reason Mabel even knows is because she was there! Does that mean you wouldn’t tell her now?”

Dipper didn’t even need to think on that. “No.”

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt released him to rake his hands through his hair, making it stick up every which way. “Oh my gosh, why.”

He didn’t like to talk about this. He didn’t want to talk about this, but the words were spilling before he could stop them. “Mabel and I had to switch classes midway through second grade. Like completely switch because it got to the point where I couldn’t go to school. I started having these stupid panic attacks. And then these older kids...”

He wasn’t going there. “So we switched classes, and I got an exemption in the dress code so I could wear a hat to class like it was some medical condition.

“If Mabel hadn’t been there for that, she would do everything she could now to get me to stop wearing the hat and stop hiding the mark all the time. So there’s no way I would tell her in a million years if she didn’t already know.”

It wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting at all. Wirt’s hands dropped to his lap, then went to clasp Dipper’s. Part of him hoped that wouldn’t be the case, that if Dipper felt that strongly about it, it would be enough to back off and let him be. He was pretty sure she would, eventually. But that wasn’t the point. Or maybe it was.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he told him. “And we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Not ever. If that’s… if that’s what helps you. If that’s what’s good for you.”

Dipper turned his hands so their palms could meet, and gazed at the connection wordlessly for a few seconds. Eventually, he met Wirt’s eyes again. “I don’t know how I feel about talking about it. I just don’t ever have to, you know? I wake up, I put on the hat, and I go. No one knows it’s there. I slipped up once with Wendy, but I was twelve and a little desperate for her attention and I was really lucky because she understood what it’s like to be the freak. But no one else does, and it’s easy to forget it’s even there when I know nobody’s going to point at me and remind me that that’s what I am.”

“You’re not.” Wirt’s chin quivered as he pressed his lips together tightly and laced their fingers together. “It might be an unusual birthmark, but it doesn’t make you a- a freak.” His voice cracked and he swallowed past the lump growing in his throat. “No matter what anyone said in the past.”

Dipper let his hand go only long enough to shift his hat to the side so he could rest their brows together without jabbing him with the bill. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t be upset on my account, Wirt. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course it’s worth it. You’re- you don’t deserve to be treated like that. To the point where you can’t even look at a part of yourself without feeling…” He frowned, then wrapped his arms around his shoulders and hugged him close. “You’re worth it. You’re the nicest guy and you trusted me with this and you didn’t even know me. You’re worth it.”

He hugged back immediately, ducking his head to nuzzle into his neck. “I’m glad I told you.”

Wirt inhaled shakily, but the sentiment helped. He didn’t know how or why Dipper felt so certain about his decision to tell him, but he couldn’t deny that he felt extremely honored by it. Warmed throughout by that level of trust. It was one thing to talk about it, but another to be privy to a secret like this. Except… it shouldn’t have had to be a thing in the first place. He blinked rapidly, turning his gaze up to the stars because maybe focusing on them would keep his vision from blurring.

“The glimmering beacons piercing… piercing the thick ink of night’s dark sky, that’s- that’s what you…” He clamped his lips shut, the words not coming while a few unwanted tears invited themselves right over. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Dipper. This is dumb. You’re not crying, so why am I-?”

“Wha-?” Dipper lifted his head, then blinked at him. “Oh my god,” he breathed, lifting his hands to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes. “Oh my god, you actually are. Don’t- Why are you so sweet? Don’t cry for me. It’s okay.” Moved, helpless, Dipper kissed him a little harder and a little more desperately than he meant to, but there were actual tears running down his face and the memories creeping up on the twin were beginning to make him tremble.

That startled him into stopping, the hitching of his breath that is. Wirt stared at him, eyes wide even while still glossed over. He hesitantly licked his lips when Dipper pulled back, feeling the tremors traveling through his fingertips. Wirt reached up and held onto his wrists.

“O-okay,” he croaked, sniffling and swallowing and trying to compose himself in any way possible for him. “Sorry, I’ll- I’ll try and stop ruining our date by- by blubbering everywhere.” He tried to lighten his tone, to ease them both. “Because this is just… so attractive, right?”

“Hey, no. You’re adorable and sweet. I’m the idiot who spazzed over a hat.”

“It’s a nice hat.” Wirt defended, tapping the bill of it.

Dipper grinned because they both needed it. “It’s the only thing Grunkle Stan’s ever given me for free.”

“You’re joking right?” He managed to lift an eyebrow in question, the grin reassuring and easing the tightness in his chest. “He’s never given you anything else?”

He laughed easily, hands leaving Wirt’s face to find his hands and squeeze reassuringly. “Let me explain to you the ways of Grunkle Stan.”

 

\---

 

It was late before the two returned to the Mystery Shack, the moon nearly directly overhead, but they’d had to double back because they’d forgotten the cameras and the outro. Though as Dipper gave his brief explanation as to what Nymphs were and why they appeared most often as those glowing orbs, his gaze and his grin was aimed more at the holder of his camera rather than the lens itself. His inattention would be fodder for the comment section - who was he looking at??? - but he didn’t know that as he swung off the old bike and pushed it into the shed.

He grinned over his shoulder when Wirt pulled up beside him. “So...”

Wirt smiled back, bumping him lightly. “So you’ve pretty much made it incredibly difficult for me to come up with a way to top that for our second date. I hope you’re happy.”

Dipper locked the shed when both bikes were inside, laughing, and then hooked an arm around Wirt’s waist as they headed for the door. “Man, if the best thing you could come up with was frozen pizza and video games, I wouldn’t care. I just wanted to, y’know, impress you a little.”

“Trust me, you impressed me more than a little. But I mean, you didn’t really need the Nymphs to do that, though they were a nice bonus.” He returned the gesture, inspired by a little burst of confidence and rested his palm against Dipper’s hip. “I’ll save the pizza and video games for fourth or fifth. I kinda want a chance to impress you, too.”

“Well, don’t stress over it or anything. I’m really easily-” He broke off, reaching the stairs before he noticed something was off. The ancient station wagon wasn’t in its parking spot. It was after eleven. There was no way his uncle was up and about. “Let’s go. Come on. Inside.” He herded Wirt in quickly, then sprinted for the stairs. “Grunkle Stan!” he shouted.

He burst into his room, expecting - hoping - to see him in bed and snoring. If someone had stolen the car, no big deal. It would probably have been easy to find, broken down on the side of the road the next morning. But if both his grunkle and the car were gone, then something could only be wrong.

Dipper ran back to the top of the stairs. “He’s not here!”

“Did he say anything to you about going out for something?” Wirt asked, though he didn’t exactly feel comforted by his own question, and could hardly expect Dipper to be. “Maybe something came up-”

As he fumbled for some kind of reason why the twins’ great uncle would not be home, something caught Wirt’s eye. Bright light stretched through one of the windows and up the wall, headlights of a car pulling up to the Mystery Shack. Before breathing a sigh of relief - because it didn’t necessarily have to be good news - Wirt went to take a look out the window and his shoulders sagged as he recognized the car out front.

“He’s back, don’t worry,” he called up to Dipper. “And it looks like he’s with- Mabel? Mabel! Greg!”

Dipper scrambled down the stairs, missing the last three entirely when he made an impatient jump and joined Wirt at the window. Sure enough, his sister was climbing out of the passenger seat with Greg in her arms. Had something happened? Oh, no, Gideon was out. What had he been thinking, letting her go anywhere on her own when that little creep was-

The door swung open, interrupting his thoughts. “Thanks again, Grunkle Stan. I know it’s late.”

The answering grunt was indecipherable, but her cheerful tone was enough to relax her twin. She waved once she saw them, rubbing Greg’s back gently as Waddles trotted by with Jason Funderburker on his back. “I was hoping to beat you guys home. Hi.”

“What are you _doing_?” he demanded, trying to be quiet for the seven year old.

“Greg couldn’t sleep, so I asked Grunkle Stan to come get us. He tried,” she said to Wirt, smile bright, “but it didn’t work out. I told him we were going to come home to see how you guys did on your date, and he fell asleep in the car. But since you’re here! How was your date?” She flicked her attention back to Dipper. “You remembered to tell him it was a date, right?”

Annoyance turned to embarrassment immediately. “Shut up, Mabel.”

“He did. It was great,” Wirt answered, gaze flicking between her and Greg. “Well, it was better than great, I mean- but uh… why didn’t it work out? Is he okay?” It didn’t matter that he looked as okay as he possibly could, asleep in Mabel’s arms, he still had to ask.

“Yeah, he’s just- ‘Night, Grunkle Stan.”

He shuffled by, not even having bothered getting dressed, and grumbled as he started up the stairs. The only decipherable words was “kids,” so Mabel giggled.

“Anyway, yeah. Greg’s okay. He just missed you, Wirt. First sleepovers are hard.”

“Why didn’t you text me?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your date, Dipper! Duh! Here, Wirt,” she offered, passing Greg to him.  

He took him without hesitation, hiking him up a little so his brother could pillow his head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Mabel,” he told her in a hushed voice while Greg stirred a little and Wirt’s eyes were apologetic when he looked up from him. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish your sleepover with your friends.”

“Who says we can’t still have one?” Mabel asked, looking between the three boys. Greg really had missed his brother, though that had only come about when it had become clear that the fun and games were ending and bedtime was beginning. He’d been completely on board with everything until then, though he’d tried his hardest to fall asleep cuddled against Mabel’s side. His eyes would only close for a few minutes before they’d spring back open and he’d search for his brother. Mabel hadn’t had the heart to make him stay the whole night. “Me, Greg, and the girls were camped out in the living room. We could do that.”

“Yeah?” Wirt rubbed his back gently, even if he was already pacified by sleep, glancing at Dipper. “Do you want to?”

He shrugged. If Mabel had come home to reunite the brothers, whether one of them was already asleep or not, he wouldn’t separate them. “Yeah. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Mabel danced in place rather than cheer as she wanted. “Dipper and I’ll take care of it. You and Greg just stay down here.” She hiked up her bag and Dipper shrugged again, adjusting the straps of his, and followed her up.

The twins worked quickly and in whispered arguments, but had a blanket fort full of pillows ready to go within twenty minutes. Mabel crawled in and flopped onto her back, more than ready to go right to sleep, but Dipper reached out for Greg. “I’ll hang onto him so you can go change.”

“Thanks.” Wirt carefully shifted him over, having been unable to let him go the entire time the twins worked, just in case Greg woke up and needed him. “I’ll be right back.”

The kiss he placed to the top of Greg’s head had been an automatic reaction, just as the one he pressed to Dipper’s cheek was, despite it being a much more surprising reaction to say the least. Warmth flooded his cheeks as he coughed quietly, then sped away for the stairs. He took them up as quiet as possible, conscious of their uncle and his obvious exhaustion and already having gone out of his way to pick up Mabel and Greg because his little brother missed him.

He should’ve known this would happen, but Greg had been so excited for the sleepover party. At least he was still getting one, for the most part, Wirt reflected as he slipped into Dipper’s room successfully. He went right for his suitcase, pulling out his pajamas for the night when his gaze landed on the shape of his clarinet case in the dark.

His poem. Oh, he was supposed to let Dipper read the poem tonight. Wirt pursed his lips, replaying the kiss he’d just randomly given him over in his head, along with the others they’d shared that night. He didn’t know if he could handle him reading the poem now, downstairs with Mabel and Greg where there was a chance that they’d wake up early and see it down there and read it and no, that wasn’t an option.

Maybe Dipper didn’t remember. He hadn’t said anything about it. Still, Wirt drummed his fingers on the clarinet case. He hadn’t exactly been joking when he’d said he’d probably lose his courage and burn it. Not that he’d actually burn it, but make sure Dipper never got a chance to read it and then effectively scrub the verses from his own mind? Yeah, he’d do that.

Wirt changed quickly, eyes locked on where the poem lay in wait the entire time. He’d told him he could read it. Dipper wanted to read it. He had a right to, it was about him after all. And Wirt… Wirt kinda wanted him to read it, too.

Taking a deep breath, steeling his resolve, he opened the case and removed the crumpled up ball of paper. He placed it on Dipper’s desk and smoothed it out the best he could, while looking around for something in particular. He’d let him read it, but it wasn’t going to be tonight and it wasn’t going to be downstairs.

Wirt found the third journal on Dipper’s bed by his bag. Opening to a random page, he set the poem inside and then shut it and pushed it away. Without time to rethink his decision, Wirt fled the bedroom, actively attempting to not think about what he’d done at all as he joined the sleepover party in the living room. Nope, he reaffirmed as he slid into the blanket fort beside Dipper and Greg. He wasn’t going to think about it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope we didn't actually kill any of you with all this cute fluff and first kisses and GAH  
> We both love this chapter to itty bitty pieces and hope all do too :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for the best poetry ever written.

“‘Werebeast sightings increase,’” Grunkle Stan muttered, then jabbed at the article on his newspaper. “What is this?”

Dipper set his fork aside to rub his temples. He hadn’t done as much research as he likely should have, and not nearly as much as he normally would have. He was polite enough to consider the fact that he had a temporary roommate who probably didn’t want to be kept awake all hours by the glow of computer screens or the wild clicking of pens or his barely understandable mutterings.

The good intentions, though, had all-but halted his research and it was frustrating. He was no closer to finding out what was killing the beasts, driving them to seek refuge closer to town. His lips thinned as he looked up, only to part in surprise when he saw Wirt watching him. The source of his early nights. He offered a smile that was returned, albeit a bit shyly.

It wasn’t normal for him at all to be setting aside research, to actually be getting some solid sleep, but there was only a week here. The thought made him feel guilty, placing a strange little relationship ahead of the lives of creatures in Gravity Falls, which put him right back where he’d started and where he continued to struggle.

He only had a week with Wirt and every single day that passed shrank that week down, and it wasn’t fair. He wanted more time. He wanted to continue sleeping beside him at night. The unspoken space that usually settled between them had been erased the night before and Dipper had fallen asleep in a blanket fort with his ear pressed to Wirt’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

It was crazy. Only a few short days had passed since the boy had arrived in Gravity Falls, and Dipper was ready to reorganize his long-ingrained habits. But there had been a click, however dumb and cliche, that had been heard almost immediately by them both. It was there and distracting and absolutely incredible.

His heart fluttered as the night before washed over him, leaving a blanket of uncomfortable comfort in its wake. He wanted more nights like it. He wanted more opportunities to hear Wirt gasp in surprise and reach for his hand. For the first time in his life, the mystery was paling in importance. He wanted the thing right there in easy reach. He wanted to keep waking up before him and smiling at his messy bedhead. He wanted to keep the way he yawned first thing and tried to deny wakefulness by huddling further under the blankets.

He wanted this cute clarinet player to stay forever.

But that was ridiculous, and it was irresponsible. He had the town to consider. He had the lives of some of the creatures Gravity Falls was home to to consider.

Dipper dropped his hands and picked up his fork again, cutting off a generous portion of his omelet. “I’m working on it, Grunkle Stan.”

“Don’t work all day,” Mabel requested, knowing how important it was to balance fun and his research. “We should go for a bike ride later.”

“We could go for a bike ride to find out more about the werewolves?” Greg attempted to compromise, stabbing his omelet with his fork and creating yet another puncture wound in the eggs as he dug out a piece of ham or spinach or something. He couldn’t quite tell when it was covered in cheese. “Then we’ll solve the mystery and have fun! Double prizes!”

That wasn’t how the mystery could be solved, Dipper knew, and began to argue with himself anew. This was always an impossible choice for him - friends and family versus research - but it was also always the most predictable. He watched Grunkle Stan reach out and ruffle Greg’s hair. “I like this kid.”

Dipper sighed, and the battle fell to the side it always did. “Yeah. I guess we can go now. If there’s been an increase in sightings, maybe we’ll run into one of the weres and I can ask it some questions. But just around town, okay? I’ve got to do some real research at some point.”

“Are you sure?” Wirt asked, having not exactly missed his little internal debate. “I mean… Mabel, Greg, and I can find something to do if you need the time and… space to research.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a long bike ride,” Greg piped up.

“No, it’s fine. Scoping out the area, hanging out?” He turned his smile on Greg. “Double prizes.”

“Yeah!” Greg threw his arms in the air with a cheer, accidentally sending a piece of omelet flying off his fork that landed right on Wirt’s head. “Oops.”

After they cleaned up the dishes from breakfast, and Wirt the egg and cheese from his hair, they headed out to the shed for the bikes. Greg hopped ahead with Jason Funderburker, his silver tea kettle on his head today. Wirt wasn’t sure how he’d managed to pack it without anyone noticing, but there was no doubt that it was the one from home. The one from The Unknown.

“We should have a bike song!” Greg declared after a really big leap over their frog.

“I don’t think we really need a bike song, Greg.” Wirt nabbed him around the waist, then gave him a quick spin before setting him in Mabel’s basket.

He laughed, then held his arms out for Jason Funderburker and Wirt handed him over accordingly. “What are you talking about, Wirt? There’s always a need for bike songs.”

“Of course there is,” Mabel agreed, swinging onto her bike.

Dipper brushed by Wirt, making sure to bump their shoulders together as he began to whistle a tune. “Good!” Mabel declared, pointing at her twin. “Let’s come up with some words for that tune, corporal.”

“Yes, sir, General Mabel!”

Wirt rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he got out Dipper’s bike and settled on it. “I hope you know what you’ve started,” he told him.

“Like they really needed any encouragement from me,” he pointed out, and started off towards town.

By the time they made it, the song seemed largely complete, including a cringeworthy freestyle rap by the ever rhyme-challenged Mabel-sable-table. Dipper and Wirt kept a careful, specific distance ahead to hear if anything happened to their siblings, but far enough away for plausible deniability if anyone asked if they were all together.

“Ever think about ghostwriting for challenged rappers?” Dipper teased, grin wide.

Wirt shrugged. “Could be lucrative. Let’s see…” He paused to listen to some of Mabel’s rap. “Cruisin’ down the street, the pedals at our feet, we ride, slide, glide, hope not to collide with the concrete,” he deadpanned, changing her words around on the spot, but he couldn’t hold a straight face as the last word lingered between them and he ended up laughing.

“Oh my god, man.” Dipper’s grin only widened, his laughter bubbling out. “That’s the best! You’re freaking amazing. How do you even-?”

He broke off, squeezing the brakes so hard and fast that his back tire lifted off the ground and the rusted old chain rattled dangerously. “ _McGucket_!” he wheezed, stopping barely an inch in front of the bearded, prospector looking man who’d decided to jump in front of him.

“Dipper!” he replied, entirely too cheerful for someone who’d nearly been run over. Bike or not.

Wirt swerved to the side as well, to avoid accidentally hitting either of them, and made a wide circle before slowing to a stop beside Dipper. He blinked uncomprehendingly at the man. How was he not panicked in the slightest? They hadn’t exactly been going slow.

“Oh my gosh. What-? Why-? Uh.” Wirt shook his head and looked at Dipper. “You okay?” That was a sentence he could get out at least.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m- What are you doing?” he demanded of the old man.

“Panicking!” he chirped and jerked his head towards the junkyard. “Come on!”

When he turned away, Dipper threw his hands skyward, lips twisting into an annoyed pout. Why?! What was this and why?

Mabel, with the benefit of distance, cruised to a much safer stop. “What’s wrong with Old Man McGucket?”

“He’s… panicking? Happily,” Wirt explained, though he didn’t sound too sure of it himself. “Should uh… should we follow him?”

“Follow the old man, follow the mystery!” Greg declared, smacking his fist into his palm with determination.

Dipper swung off his bike with a sigh, pushing it into the junkyard. It wasn’t that far in that he could see just why McGucket was in a state, and the handlebars simply slipped from his fingers. While the crazy man didn’t exactly live in splendor, the shack he’d fashioned for himself out of scraps at least tended to be in one piece.

With a large gaping hole at the side of the door, Dipper wouldn’t exactly call it one piece. The sticks were there, too, just as they’d been in the werebeast dens. He moved closer to the shack, studying the various sizes of wood protruding at all angles from, he soon realized, every side of the “house.”

His heart quickened its pace, guilt rolling over him as he realized he was supposed to be the one stopping things like this from happening. He hadn’t done any real research. He was skipping out on his research even now.

He covered his face with his palms, scrubbing as if it would wipe away the guilt. “What did this?”

“No idea!”

“When did it happen?”

“Well... last night?”

Not helpful, but he couldn’t really expect much more from the old man. Dipper shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Were you even home?”

“Mm-mm. I was looking for supplies for a new robot to scare them werebeasts away. They’ve been digging through my trash.”

He lived in a junkyard, surrounded by the town’s trash, but there was no reason to point that out. “Okay. Okay, I’ll-”

“But I did hear laughin’. Sounded like Lil’ Gideon,” McGucket added, and Dipper tensed, hearing Mabel’s sharp inhale from somewhere behind him.

“Who?” Greg straightened his kettle, looking from Mabel to Wirt.

“The guy who came to the door after the party,” the older brother reminded him, concern knitting his brow as he mentally played through the stories Dipper had told him the day before, though paused when Greg continued to stare at him. “Gideon,” he told him again. “The felon?”

“Oh! The one that looks like a show pony!” His face lit up with understanding that time, then he frowned a little. “He seemed too sparkly to want to play in garbage though.”

“He is,” Mabel confirmed, gaze sliding to her twin in concern.

“He is, yeah, but whoever he escaped with might not be. I don’t know _anything_ about that guy.” Dipper turned back to them, tugging at the bill of his cap. “Did you hear anyone else?” he asked of the old man, hiking the old bicycle back up.

“Sure didn’t! Just the laughin’ and such.”

“Is anything missing from inside?”

“Don’t think so.”

He sighed, climbing back onto the bike. “Let me know if anything’s missing.” Guilt still eating at him, Dipper rubbed the back of his neck even as McGucket withdrew what appeared to be some sort of grenade launcher out of his overalls.

“I’m gonna start fresh!” he announced, eyes crossing.

“Okay.” It wasn’t the first time he’d blown his shack sky high, so Dipper knew he’d remove all essentials first. “I need to... I should check on the rest of the town.” Was this isolated to McGucket? If so, why? If not, who else? He tapped his fist to his brow twice, annoyed with himself. He needed to be putting the puzzle together, not having fun at the pool, the arcade, or going on admittedly amazing dates.

Wirt pursed his lips and instinctively reached out for him, but hesitated before his hand made contact with his back. He could see the guilt, that Dipper was blaming himself for not trying harder. Clearly he and Greg were a distraction… no, he was, just him. Mabel had Greg for most of the time, so his little brother didn’t have much opportunity to bother Dipper. But Wirt… Wirt was clearly wasting his time.

“Alright.” He considered letting his hand drop, but then rested his palm against Dipper’s shoulder briefly, for comfort if anything. “Let’s go take a look around and make sure everyone else is okay, then go back so you can puzzle this out.”

Dipper covered his hand before it could move, giving it a squeeze. He shouldn’t be spending so much time focusing on him rather than the mystery before him, but he knew he wouldn’t alter the decisions. They only had a week. “Thanks, man. Seriously.”

Wirt offered him a weak smile, then took his hand back. “Yeah. Of course.” What was he thanking him for, he was just getting in the way. How could he have thought that he was that important? “Anything to help you figure out what’s going on,” he added, because really, it was the least the he could do and he didn’t want to see that look of guilt and feeling of failure on Dipper’s face, not when it was one hundred percent preventable.

The smile Dipper gave was more full, determined as his mind shifted to focus on the mystery. He could solve it, he always had. He just needed to get to work and everything would be fine. “Let’s go.”

“Clue hunt!” Mabel cheered and swung her bike around to shoot out of the junkyard first.

There were more sticks and bizarre branches littered through the town as they sped through, Dipper making mental, muttered notes under his breath as he ticked them off. There wasn’t a pattern to it at all. Sometimes little twigs would be sticking out of the concrete, sometimes pieces as thick as tree trunks had to be navigated around.

It made him a little sick, seeing how close some deadly thing had come to the people of their town. He thought of Mabel and Greg and Grunkle Stan on the road the night before and paled. If Greg had wanted to go home later, would they have been affected by it? If he and Wirt had stayed in the woods longer, would they have seen something?

People called out to him as they passed, and he lost count of how often he called back, “Working on it!” They were counting on him. He couldn’t let them down.

Thankfully, or frustratingly, the only other building in town that bore any serious damage was Greasy’s Diner. Lazy Susan stood out front, hands fisted in her apron, and Dipper pulled his bike to a stop to assess the damage. The door was gone and the shattered windows were bursting with branches and sticks.

“Oh, Dipper!” Realizing he was there, she blinked her good eye at him; he hated that she already looked relieved. “When I came in this morning, I saw all this and couldn’t believe it! Manly Dan and his boys are coming by to clear it out. What happened?” she asked.

He shivered a little, shoulders sagging because he should know. He always knew. “I’m... I’m working on it, Lazy Susan.”

Wirt swallowed as he watched him, heart sinking as each inquiry from the town seemed to weigh heavier and heavier on his shoulders. “It has something to do with the wereanimals,” he piped up, unable to let him sound so defeated. “Dipper’s looking into it, he just wanted to make sure everyone in town was alright first. We all did.” He waved his hand at Greg and Mabel.

“Yeah!” Greg nodded. “We’re on the case! With my trusty elephant trunk, we’ll be able to sniff out the perps! And remember them, too, ‘cause elephants never forget.”

Lazy Susan laughed at his exuberance, but Dipper just gaped at them. Specifically, he stared at Wirt. No one supported him so easily or vocally but Mabel, who gave him a thumbs-up. “Yep! We’ll have this taken care of in no time! Was anything taken?” she asked since Dipper still seemed too stunned to remember to do so himself.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been in yet.”

Dipper swallowed, the smile he gave Wirt small and shy before he looked back at the woman. “Don’t until the Corduroys clear it out.” There could be more structural damage inside, after all. “I’ll come by later. We’ll come by,” he amended, the next glance he threw over his shoulder hopeful.

Wirt rubbed his arm, nodding a little before averting his gaze to one of the larger branches. “Yeah. Yeah, we will.”

“I’ll bring my magnifying glass,” Greg added, catching his brother’s attention.

“You don’t have a magnifying glass.”

“That’s never stopped me before!” He had a point.

Mabel laughed. “I have an extra for you, elephant friend, so it won’t stop you now either.”

Dipper straightened his bike, feet hitting the pedals as his mind switched gears. The town was damaged, but they’d seen worse, and no one was hurt. It was a huge relief for him, so now he could think about research. What needed his attention? What could be eliminated right off the bat? “Bye, Lazy Susan!” he called as an afterthought before speeding off.

“Oh, boy,” Mabel sighed, shaking her head even as she followed after him. “I’ll have to set the Dipper Timer. Do you want to hang out with me and Greg, Wirt? Dipper’s going to be awful company for a couple hours.”

Wirt watched as their distance increased, his chest tightening as his pulse tried to find a rhythm to stick to. “Yeah.” He nodded, hands clenching the handlebars until his knuckles turned white, but he flicked his gaze to Mabel and tried to smile. “If you guys don’t mind.”

“Oh boy!” Greg cheered. “We can come up with some really, extra fun games for three people now! Like lava monster or hide-and-seek! Do you want to play lava monster, Mabel?”

She laughed. “One round, then I have something I need to work on too, okay? We can watch Duck Detective, though, so we can learn some helpful tips and tricks. We’ve got a mystery to solve!”

“Oh, yeah!” Greg smacked himself in the forehead in a perfect mimic of his brother, except he was grinning the whole time. “We’ve gotta make a list of the suspects and the murder weapons and the-”

“Murder weapons?” Wirt blinked at him, then shook his head. “So far it’s not that kind of mystery, Greg.”

“But it could be,” Greg pointed out. “You just never know, Wirt. You just never know.”

“I love your optimism,” Mabel praised.

The old bike Dipper had been using was already in the shed by the time they arrived back at the shack. They’d seen him rush inside briefly, heading for the attic with inspiration and drive renewed. It was baffling how quick he’d been able to turn around, Wirt reflected, picturing how disheartened he’d seemed not minutes before. Perhaps he was just resilient, in the same way Greg was. Nothing could keep them down for long. Wirt mentally agreed with his own assessment, a little caught up in his thoughts as he followed Mabel and Greg inside.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was their mom, just checking in to see how they were doing. _Mom, I think I’m messing everything up for one of the best things that’s ever happened to me just by existing. What do I do?_ But he didn’t send that. He replied with a quick little, “fine,” then considered something that really made his stomach churn. If he was getting in the way, maybe it was time to go.

It was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do. When would they get a chance to see each other again? He knew he was the reason why Dipper was losing valuable time to sort out all the pieces, having to waste it explaining things to him or staying quiet at night because they were sharing a room or taking him on an absolutely, perfect date that he couldn’t have ever dreamed of. Sure, Dipper didn’t blame him now, but if he didn’t solve this whole mess because of him, then would he?

Wirt didn’t want to give him that option. He was pretty certain he wouldn’t be able to handle that, pilgrim or not. Still, he didn’t text her that. Not yet. Because even if he was in the way, he didn’t want to cut Greg’s time with Mabel short. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. Maybe they didn’t have to go. Maybe if Wirt just gave Dipper his space and stopped bothering him, it would be okay.

“Wirt! Wirt, are you listening?”

He blinked, startled away from staring at his phone when Greg jumped up and down in front of him. “Sorry, Greg. Got a bit distracted for a second. What’s up?”

“You have to go get your clarinet!” The younger boy pointed at the stairs.

“What? I thought we were playing lava monster.”

“I’m setting that aside for now. Clarinet first.” Greg crossed his arms and nodded firmly. “It’s important sweater business.”

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “Sweater business?”

“You said you’d play something for my sweater that’s your sweater,” Mabel reminded him, flicking through channels to find Duck Detective reruns.

“Oh, right.” His gaze wandered from the television to the stairs. “Um… does it have to be now? I mean, I want to. I’m all for it, but my clarinet’s in Dipper’s room and I don’t really want to bother him if he’s busy.”

Greg blinked at him. “Why would going into his room to get something bother him?”

Hunching his shoulders defensively, he shrugged. “I- I don’t know. It might.”

“It won’t,” she assured him. “When he gets like this, it’s hard to get his attention. I have a timer for just these situations!”

Wirt still didn’t appear convinced. “I- you’re sure? Because I know he really needs to focus. What if I accidentally make a sudden noise or something or walk in on him pacing and get in the way. I don’t want to get in the way, I mean, any more than I have already, and-”

“Wirt.” Greg tugged on his pant leg. “Do you want me to get your clarinet? I’ll do it. I’ll be super sneaky!”

He almost took him up on it. “No, I’ll… I’ll get it. Thanks, Greg. Be back in second, guys.”

“I’ll get my tape recorder!” Mabel cheered and sped by him, pausing only to wrap him in a hug and squeeze. “I know Dipper’s a big old dork, and he’s wrapped in mystery right now, but he does still want to spend time with you. He just needs a couple hours before we drag him back out.” She poked his cheeks, smile bright, before mounting the stairs two at a time to get to her room and gather supplies.

 

\----

 

Dipper was hunched over his keyboard, gaze flicking to each computer screen periodically, already elbow deep in research and muttering to himself. His journals, the original three and his own, were stacked by his elbow and a map with the diner and McGucket’s shack circled tacked on the wall. His whiteboard, the chart of distraction versus clue, had also been updated.

He’d had a lot of years to adapt a set of steps to putting puzzles together, and knew how to work quickly. He hadn’t quite worked out sanely or safely, which was why Mabel had a timer, but it was easy to lose himself in the work. He liked the steps; he liked digging through information for every piece; he liked being able to step back and see a complete picture. He was nowhere near a complete picture here, so it was time to start gathering those pieces.

Wirt had hesitated outside his door, thinking about whether or not to knock before entering. Since he didn’t want to disturb him at all - and knocking would definitely do that - he held his breath and eased open the door. His gaze immediately gravitated to Dipper’s set-up, observing the way he scratched at his head, pressed his finger to something as if that would enhance it in his mind, and murmured indecipherable things to himself.

It took him a minute to search the room for his clarinet case. It was relatively close to the door, he noticed with some relief, but he didn’t breathe just yet. Slipping inside, Wirt kept his back close to the wall as he eased his way over, feeling very much like a child doing something they weren’t supposed to. He was doing alright though, he figured, but then he must’ve wandered into Dipper’s peripheral vision because suddenly he was staring right into his eyes and Wirt exhaled on a yelp.

It took Dipper a second to adjust from research to human contact, blinking twice. “Hey. Hi. What’s up?”

He’d disturbed him. Mabel said he wouldn’t and he did. “I- uh- I’m sorry. Sorry, just um… just getting my clarinet… that’s… it’s over there. Sorry. Just uh- keep working. I’m not even here!” He scurried over to snatch the clarinet case.

“It’s okay,” Dipper assured him. “Your stuff’s all up here, man. If you need something, it’s fine.” He rubbed his eyes, glancing at one of his laptops when it pinged. “Hey, just real quick. You’re an escaped felon who’s been on the run for a month with another felon and some kind of... creature thing. Why do you attack a crazy inventor’s house and a diner but nothing else?”

“They must have something I want,” he replied, heart still racing as he fidgeted with his clarinet case. “Crazy or not, if McGucket's as good an inventor as you've said, he could have some valuable thing. And I dunno, a diner could have kitchen appliances? Maybe I'd need a blender motor or something.”

“Okay,” Dipper mused, rubbing his jaw as he considered. “Yeah. That makes sense. Thanks.” He hopped up, went to his whiteboard to add “blueprints? invention?” to McGucket's name and “parts?” beside Susan's. He chewed on the end of the marker, nodding at these new pieces.

When he looked back at Wirt, his heart fluttered. “So... Mabel's got you playing? I'm sorry. I know it's totally not cool for me to be up here. Do you want-? I mean, I'll come down if you want me to.”

“No!” Wirt waved his free hand in a negative strike as he shook his head. “I mean, you're busy and I get it. I definitely, totally get it. This needs your attention. The town needs you. And you... you need this. So don't worry about me or get distracted from this or anything. I'm just gonna play a song for Mabel's sweater.” He blinked when he realized what little sense that made out of context. “For her to record for her sweater. Yeah. Um. That's... I'll be fine. And I'm sorry that me being here has kinda kept you from this, so you know, do what you have to do and I'll be downstairs if you need me.”

“No, man, don't be sorry about that. I'm so freaking glad you're here, and I want to keep being around you.” Dipper went to him quickly, laying a hand on his arm. “You haven't kept me from this, but I seriously appreciate you understanding that I've got to do it. I'll be down when I make some headway, okay? But if you need me or want to come up and keep me company after you're done playing for her sweater, that's cool.”

Dipper rocked up, a little flustered at having to lift up, but he wanted to kiss him. He needed to. It was brief and light, just long enough to remind them both of the feelings the simple contact caused. He dropped back to the flats of his feet, offering a smile. “So, um, yeah. See you in a little while?”

“I... yeah. I'll see you in a little while.” Wirt ducked his head, embarrassed for getting so flustered over this. “Good luck? I hope you find something that makes it all make sense for you. I mean, I know you can do it, I just hope it's soon.”

He glanced up from the floor to him, cleared his throat, then turned to go. He hesitated though, hand on the doorframe as he looked over his shoulder. With the days running out, every minute really did count.

“I'll come back. I want to keep being around you, too. I'll read or write some poetry while you're working.” He returned the smile, still a little hesitant. “If you don't mind?”

“Yeah, man. Whatever you want.” Dipper half-doffed his hat and dropped into his chair to study the screens. The sooner he let Wirt go, the sooner he would return.

His heart skipped a beat, lighter now, but still tentative as far as his presence encroaching on Dipper’s space went. He waved awkwardly, then squeaked out a “bye” before ducking out the door. He placed his hand over his heart at the top of the stairs, taking a moment just to breathe as he glanced back at Dipper’s room. They wanted to keep being around each other. They could be around each other and focus on different things. That was totally something they could do.

When Wirt joined Mabel and Greg downstairs, he settled beside his little brother on the floor. Duck Detective was on and he glanced up to catch glimpses of it occasionally while he assembled the clarinet, smiling a little when he noticed it captured Greg's attention completely. When his clarinet was ready, he closed his lips around the mouthpiece and tested a few notes. Satisfied with it, he let out a contented sigh, then looked over the top of Greg’s head to see Mabel.

“So, did you want me to play anything in particular?” he asked.

“Nope!” Mabel looked up from her knitting, the nearly finished sweater clearly too small for her, and clicked the red record button of her tape player. “Play whatever makes you happy.”

He pursed his lips as he thought about it, caught between two songs that he thought might make for a good, little sweater tune. One Mabel would recognize, but the other one… she and Dipper had already been gone. Still, he liked the sound of it, and it made him happy, despite what occurred immediately following it. He’d see how it went. He’d already practiced changing the song to be more clarinet appropriate rather than for the bassoon.

Wirt didn’t know the name of the song, but had taken to calling it “Over the Garden Wall” due to the last line. It stood out to him, for some reason, and he wondered if it had anything to do with the cemetery and how they’d ended up in The Unknown in the first place. As soon as he started playing the familiar melody, Greg gasped and sat straight up with a grin. He knew he wanted to say something, but his little brother managed to keep his mouth shut since the recorder was on and scrambled to his feet to grab their frog from where he’d been resting.

He watched him poke Jason Funderburker several times, as if prompting him, then Wirt closed his eyes and let the song carry through to the end. Their frog didn’t sing a word, but at this point, Wirt didn’t really expect him to, even if Greg thought it was just because he was shy. As the song came to a close, he prepared to shift gears, launching into a rendition of “Adelaide Parade” for his brother and Mabel.

Greg abandoned Jason Funderburker to throw his arms around Mabel from behind, locked around her shoulders. When Wirt started to go through it a second time and gave him a nod, Greg started singing along to the familiar tune. The original words, just in case Mabel remembered them and wanted to sing with him.

“Oh, we’re going to the pasture to meet Adelaide and ask her if she has a way to send us back where we came from! I don’t know who she is or how she is or when, what, why she is, but as for where she is, she is where we will go!”

“To Adelaide! To Adelaide! Come on and join the Adelaide parade!” Mabel laughed and joined in for the chorus, but tears pricked her eyes as she laid her hand on Wirt’s knee. It was perfect.

When the last note faded, he lowered his clarinet a bit and smiled at her. “Will either of those work for the sweater?”

“They both will!” She blinked the tears away before looking back at Greg. “I think your sweater’s done. Let’s try this on. Wirt, take off yours. It’ll get in the way of my measurements.”

While Greg cheered and started to stuff himself in the sweater, Wirt furrowed his brow as he thought that sentence through. “Measurements?” he echoed.

“I’m not letting a fellow sweater-wearer leave without one of my custom amazing sweaters, and you like yours to fit properly, so I need to measure properly.” She tugged at the hem of Greg’s sweater, beaming back at a rock’s painted face on the soft green material. “What do you think, Greg? Good?”

“Whoa! It’s a rock fact!” Greg grinned down at the pattern, even though he was seeing it upside-down, then up at Mabel before launching himself at her for a hug. “It’s the best sweater ever! Thanks, Mabel!”

She laughed, returning the hug automatically. If she’d been standing, she would have twirled him, but settled for giving him a tight squeeze. “You’re welcome!”

“Wirt! Did you see it? Look!” When he broke the embrace, he scrambled over to his older brother and puffed his chest out so he could get a good look at it.

“Yeah, it’s really great,” he agreed, admiring the craftsmanship and wondering exactly how long it took her make. She seemed to crank out sweaters like it was as simple as breathing, even though he knew that wasn’t the case.

“What kind of sweater are you gonna make Wirt?” Greg asked her while Wirt fiddled with the hem of the one he was wearing. “Is it gonna have a dinosaur on it?”

Wirt snorted as he tugged the sweater over his head, leaving him in a plain, white collared shirt. “Why would mine have a dinosaur, Greg?”

“Because dinosaurs are cool.”

The girl shook her head, giggling as she retrieved her measuring tape from her pocket. “While dinosaurs are extremely cool, Wirt’s not really a dinosaur guy.” He was a minimalist guy, she mused, checking the width of his shoulders, then the length of his arms. “Torso time! Stand up,” she ordered and measured his height, both back and front.

She grinned at him when she looped the tape around his waist. “You’ll both have to wait and see. It’ll be a surprise!”

“Wow! Surprises are even cooler than dinosaurs!” Greg approved of the answer, leaving them to their measuring to drag Jason Funderburker over to watch more Duck Detective.

Wirt tried not to be too awkward or fidget as he stood there, though it was weird being measured. “Thank you for making me one,” he told her. “I really appreciate it. Your sweaters are really impressive.”

She looked up, eyes round and wide. It was rare for her to receive a simple, genuine compliment for them. She made so many and had for so long that people tended to see them as simple extensions of herself. And while, in a way, they were, it was still nice to hear.

Her surprise melted into a bright smile. “Thanks, Wirt. They’re fun to make, and I want you to take something back with you that you can use all year long. My sweaters are shrink-proof and come with a lifelong hemming guarantee for all your growth spurt needs.”

“Good to know.” He grinned back at her. “I’ll be sure to request your hemming services when the next round of growing pains set in.”

“We’ll borrow Pacifica’s jet and take it to Massachusetts if need be.” She plucked up his sweater, satisfied with the numbers kicking around in her head, and handed it back to him. She wasn’t normally good at keeping figures in mind, but craft math was different from normal math. “I have no problem with that!”

Wirt chuckled, slipping it back on over his head. “Well, I don’t either, but I could always just ship it to you with new measurements, you know. That might be easier than commandeering a jet and flying across the country.”

“But flying across the country is so much more fun!”  She cocked her head to the side, studying him for a few minutes as she considered her sweater options. Minimal, okay, but still adorable. Ideas, patterns, pictures flitted through her mind until she plucked one at random and nodded, vision firm.

She needed her yarn, though, as a color scheme began to situate itself within the pattern. “Come upstairs with me really quick,” she requested and pressed a kiss to the top of Greg’s head when she leaned down to retrieve her knitting supplies from Greg’s sweater. “We’ll be right back. You keep a vigilant watch over the living room, corporal.”

“Yes, sir, General Mabel!”

Wirt grabbed his clarinet, though left the case, and took it with him as he followed Mabel to her room. It was just safer for the clarinet if it came with him. While Greg appreciated the instrument, sometimes he got a bit creative with it. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d planned on leaving his clarinet to Dipper - imaginary will or not.

“Okay, so there’s a thing that I’ve been meaning to show you and Greg since you got here, but there hasn’t really been a chance to do it. And Dipper’s already seen it, so I know he doesn’t really need to see it again, but I still want to look at it with all four of us together, but I also just want to show you now, okay?” It came out in a big rush, Mabel seeking her blue yarn. Like her clarinet sweater, this would be the same color as Wirt’s cape. Smaller balls of red, yellow, and a creamy white were sought as well.

“Oh, okay.” Wirt nodded, appreciating the shade of blue she picked, though tilted his head at the other colors she nabbed. They could work together, he decided, interested in seeing what she had planned for him and trusting that it wouldn’t be too ostentatious. “What is it?”

Belatedly, she realized that maybe grabbing all the yarn first hadn’t been a good idea. She used her foot to pull out her desk chair, nodding at the book she’d left on the cushion. Mabel knew herself well enough to know putting it away would’ve meant forgetting it entirely. “This. Look.”

Wirt tucked his clarinet under one arm so he could pick it up with both hands. It was a scrapbook. His gaze flicked up to Mabel, understanding starting to fill his face as he recalled the dozens of pictures she’d taken. The camera. The pink, sparkly camera that had apparently been the reason why Greg had dropped down into a random hole in a cave and gotten stuck. He opened it up, holding it out so Mabel could look at it alongside him, and his heart immediately stuttered.

“They all made it. Dipper was so shocked, but I was thrilled.” Mabel hugged the yarn to her chest, gazing at the familiar photographs as Wirt slowly flipped the pages. “We couldn’t get them printed out for a while, and Dipper made a million digital copies like they were just going to vanish at any moment, but they never did.”

“I can’t believe it…” Wirt stared at each picture as if memorizing them. “I mean, I still had the journal page and Greg still had your sticker book, but I didn’t think the pictures would…” He looked up from one of Dipper’s blue tongue, right next to one where Greg had a mouthful of mushrooms while Wirt frowned beside him, and sought Mabel’s gaze. “You had these the whole time and you… you kept them even after- when we never came and- _how_?”

“Well, how is more Dipper’s territory than mine. He hasn’t figured it out yet, so he probably won’t. But keeping them? Why wouldn’t I?” She managed to shift the yarn to the crook of her arm, turning to the back of the book and the page with all of them together. “I didn’t care if you’d forgotten about us, chose to forget about us, or if you just hadn’t...”

She couldn’t say it, had never been able to say it. “I didn’t care, Wirt. I still loved you, and I still loved Greg. I wouldn’t have thrown these out if you’d never come.”

“Mabel…” His lower lip trembled as he blinked back the dampness filling his eyes. He sniffled, gaze taking the time to trace the last picture before he set the book down and dropped his clarinet to the chair. Wirt pulled her in for tight hug, unable to believe that she’d really kept it all this time and that Dipper made copies so they wouldn’t lose the only proof they had of their existence and that they cared enough to want to remember them despite everything.

“We could never have forgotten you guys. Willingly or not. I know why you’d rather think that than the alternative, and I don’t blame you, I’d want to think that, too, but… but you were so important to us. Still are.” He managed a small, wet laugh. “I want one of those million digital copies of that last one. Of all of them.”

“Okay. We still have them, so okay.” The yarn had fallen to the floor so she could hug him back, gripping his sweater much like her twin. They held on, the Pines twins, and neither could be shaken easily. Her laugh was as tearful as his, though she didn’t bother to hold her tears back. “You were such a jerk. This moody, scared jerk, but I loved you to pieces anyway, and I didn’t want you to be- to be-

“But you’re not, and you’re not a scared jerk anymore, and I just love you and Greg so much. You have to stay in touch with us after you go, and we’ll have to hang out every summer, and- and- I’m so glad you’re here, okay?”

“We will. We’ll make sure to see you whenever we can. We can’t- I can’t imagine doing anything else. We… I know we both need you guys in our lives. Greg absolutely adores you, and I… I need someone that thinks I’m not a scared jerk even though I am, I am still a scared jerk, but I’m working on that. On the jerk part anyway. I’m still scared and moody, don’t pretend that you haven’t noticed.” Wirt squeezed her a little, letting her cling all she needed. “We’ll stay in touch. That’s a rock fact.”

“Of course I noticed, but you have low self-esteem for some reason. But you _are_ working on it, like you said, and that’s super brave. And, come on, we’re fifteen. We’re all moody. That’s okay.” She lifted to her toes to rub their cheeks together. “You’re the best, Wirt.”

Wirt’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, free from the tears. He stole a glance at the scrapbook, then turned back to the impossibly strong, hopeful girl. “You are too, Mabel. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” She gave him a final, tight squeeze before leaning back and wiping away the last of her tears. “So are you going to stay downstairs with us, or...?”

“Well, uh…” He picked up his clarinet, twisting it in his hands. “I kinda told Dipper I’d go back up and keep him company when we were done doing sweater stuff. Oh and he totally noticed me, by the way.” Wirt narrowed his eyes, though his smile gave him away. “He immediately knew I was there.”

She laughed, retrieving the yarn and thread she’d dropped. “Well, I can’t be right all the time. The world needs balance. I’ll come get you guys when the Dipper Timer goes off.”

“Okay. Maybe then we can all look at the scrapbook so Greg can see it, too. He’s gonna get a kick out of it. As long as he doesn’t know that we’ve all seen it before him. Then he might pout a bit and lament the misfortunes of being seven.”

“Of which there are many, let’s be honest.” She thought of the picture Greg had drawn - Wirt trapped by the Beast, and decided to keep her promise and hold that to herself. Wirt was happy, and she wasn’t going to be the one to make him unhappy. “Have fun listening to Dipper babble.”

He grinned. “Have fun listening to Greg do the same,” he replied with a wave, then left her room in favor of taking the stairs to the attic.

 

\----

 

Nothing had been missing from Lazy Susan’s diner, at least not as far as she’d been able to tell once the Corduroys had cleared her place out. McGucket, though, was missing a folder of blueprints. He couldn’t remember what all had been in the folder, which was troubling, but Dipper knew he’d at least try and figure out what had been there.

Dipper had to wonder what Gideon had been searching for, and whether he’d gone in the diner to seek parts as Wirt had suggested or, perhaps, the diner had been a diversion so they wouldn’t look into what had been taken from McGucket. His hours of research had certainly been beneficial, and he felt so much better knowing that he’d put time into this mystery.

He now knew that the felon Gideon had escaped with had been charged with kidnapping and burglary. The kidnapping had gotten his back up, but he supposed if Gideon was planning on taking Mabel, he would need someone with some expertise on the matter. But where did the monster fit in? How did it fit in? The only real clue they had to the creature being associated with Gideon was McGucket hearing him laugh. Was that even enough to tie them together, and what were they even looking at here?

He was stuck on the monster, had dead-ended on it just as Mabel and Greg had come in, all smiles and excited interruption.

But not before Wirt had suggested trying to find werebeasts to ask if any of them knew what they were facing. Dipper smiled at him, looking away from the siblings riding ahead of them and singing their bicycle song.

Wirt smiled back, bright and light and honestly relaxed even with their mission ahead of him. He was glad that most of his worries about being in the way had ebbed, thanks to both of the twins albeit in different ways. When Mabel and Greg got to her rap portion of the song, Wirt mouthed the verse he’d come up with instead.

“You know that might be the best thing I’ve come up with? I’ll have to dedicate to you. You made it all possible,” he teased.

“Beats by Wirt,” Dipper joked, scanning the area even as he laughed.

“No, I’d need a cool rapper name,” Wirt chuckled as he glanced around as well, keeping an eye out for wolves, foxes, or hares, since those were the three weres that Dipper had mentioned the most.

“Stick with Poetic Pilgrim. It suits you.”

“It does. It’s just pretentious enough that I could see it working-” Wirt stopped himself, slowing down a little as his gaze fixated on a certain spot between the trees, in the shadows. He thought he saw something move.

In contrast, Dipper sped up, overtaking their siblings so Mabel would stop. “Dipper?”

“Hang on. I think-”

The ground rattled beneath their wheels and Dipper didn’t even have time to call out before a large stick shot over his head and impaled a tree. “Go!” he shouted. “Go, go, go!”

Mabel wasted no time pedaling, not stopping to wait and see the creature as she normally would have because of the boy and frog riding with her.

Wirt saw it though. He saw it and he was completely horrified by the blur of what appeared to be mangled flesh and wood burst through the trees. Luckily the sight of it spurred him back into pedaling - away, away, far away from whatever that thing was - so he could catch up to Mabel and Greg. He did look back over his shoulder though, as the thing loped after them on misshapen arms and legs and oh wow, and he’d thought The Beast looked messed up.

Dipper followed, looking back more than forward as he tried to take in the details. It was almost like a human. A large, patchy shaped human, but it had two legs - most of the time - and two arms - again, most of the time - one head with clear signs of normal facial features. Two eyes, one nose, one mouth. The mouth opened on a roar and Dipper yelped from two things.

The incredibly large stick that impaled the ground right behind his back tire and the _snap_ of the old bike chain. He fell hard, flipping over the handlebars when his bike tire simply stopped communicating with the pedals and skidded along the forest floor.

“Dipper!” Wirt gripped the brakes hard, turning around without a second thought. He scrambled off the bike to grab his arm, help him up before that thing threw anything else at them or got close enough to close one of its bulging, meaty fists around their necks. “Are you okay? Can you stand? Oh my gosh. Come on.”

His elbows and palms were scraped, but at least he’d put on jeans so the damage wasn’t too bad. Dipper shoved Wirt towards the bike. “Get back on! Don’t get off the- I’m fine, oh my god!” He leapt onto the spokes sticking out of the back wheels, installed for just this sort of thing. His arms locked around Wirt’s waist. “Go, man!”

Wirt yelped as another enormous stick hurtled through the air towards them and pedaled away. “What is that thing? What is that thing? Oh gosh,” he frantically muttered under his breath, not really expecting any answers as his panic manifested in wild pedaling and uncontrollable babbling.

Dipper’s manifested as plans. “Mabel, duck!” he shouted and his sister swerved instead. He paled at the angle, agreeing with her choice. Duck and it would’ve gotten Greg instead. They had to get out of there, but the creature was rapidly gaining and was now producing handfuls of those sticks, the variety and speed with which they manifested awe-inspiring had they not been in direct danger.

His gaze swiveled, mentally mapping the area, and knew just where to go. “Go home!” he shouted to his twin. “Go home and text me when you get there!” Then he ducked his head and spoke quieter. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You have to stop. Hit the brakes, just for a minute. Trust me.”

Wirt tensed, but he squeezed the brakes and his eyes shut as he did what he said. If it helped Greg and Mabel… “I trust you,” he grit out, focusing on that and not on the likelihood that they were about to be either squashed by a tree or ripped apart by a monster. “I trust you. I trust you.”

Dipper couldn’t take the time to thank him, leaping off the back of the bike before he’d come to a complete stop. The monster had its sights set on their still-moving siblings, and that had to change. He snatched a rock, calculating differences in weight, shape, distance, wind - “Hey!” he shouted and threw hard. The sound the rock made when it shot through the monster’s eye and right out the back of its skull was like a twig snapping.

Other than that, the only effect was that its attentions turned completely. “I hate being the distraction,” he muttered and jumped back on, leaning over Wirt to cover his hands and turn the handlebars to the right. “Go! Just listen to me, and we’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he breathed, feeling immeasurably better with Dipper pressed against his back again. Still panicking and still very, very scared, but it was much better than feeling both those things along with being alone slash unsure if the guy he really, really liked had just run off to his own doom. He followed Dipper’s instructions, taking them the way he wanted them to go as fast as he could with the creature raging at them through the woods.

One hand flew to his hat to hold it down, the other wrapping securely around Wirt as Dipper made sure the creature still followed them rather than their siblings. The woods were denser off the path, but it didn’t seem to slow the thing down. It almost seemed as though the monster was absorbing the trees it ran through and over, which was incredibly fascinating and would, hopefully, come in handy when he looked into this later.

“There’s a cave up ahead. It’ll be on your left. It’s ridiculously easy to miss, so I’ll let you know when we’re there.” He rubbed a circle against Wirt’s abdomen, looking over his shoulder when the monster bellowed. “Almost there.”

Wirt shuddered as he felt the vibrations of the roar through the wheels of the bike and up to the handlebars. He barely managed to bite back a sound of distress as he refrained from looking back to see just how close it was. Instead his eyes went left, searching for the cave while he waited for the confirmation that they were there. He saw it just as Dipper pointed it out, taking the turn sharply as they skidded into the cave.

The vines they busted through were good camouflage, but every inch of Dipper was screaming to get behind cover, to get Wirt to safety. When the bike stopped, Dipper jumped off and simply hauled Wirt after him, hiding behind a boulder while his bike clattered unceremoniously to the cave floor. He shoved him down, straddling his waist to keep him hidden and covered, and gazed towards the mouth of the cave until the creature’s bellowing and the tremors from his steps ceased.

Only then did he look down, studying him closely to make certain he was alright.

Wirt was staring up at him, eyes wide and fists clenched in Dipper’s vest. “It’s gone?” he whispered, voice wavering as he searched his face for the same thing.

Dipper pulled off his hat and dropped it, almost unaware of the move. “We’re good,” he confirmed and fused their lips together. This one wasn’t soothing or coaxing. This one wasn’t gentle and light.

There was a tight coil of need in his gut that had simply erupted and needed an outlet. Fear, desperation, relief - they churned through him, made him reckless. And if he was going to drown in this flood, he was bringing Wirt with him.

Wirt squeaked out a gasp, the force behind the kiss sending him reeling. But he didn’t push him away. It made his already hammering heart only pound harder, but he left one hand clutching his vest while the other went to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the thick curls he found there. To keep him close. He didn’t quite know what to do with a kiss like this, but he knew he had to keep him there. He needed him there. So his lips pressed back as he pulled him closer.

Dipper mumbled something too incoherent for even him to repeat, either soothing or begging, hands leaving the boulder they hid behind to grasp Wirt’s waist. He changed the angle, deepening it further. His tongue slipped between his lips, briefly finding Wirt’s. Just a taste, he told himself, just a sample, but the little noise Wirt made in the back of his throat made it very difficult to leave it at that.

He broke the kiss on a shaky gasp, tucking his chin atop Wirt’s head as his heart threatened to beat right through his ribs. _Oh my god._

Wirt hid his face against his shoulder, able to feel just how red his cheeks were. “Sorry,” he muffled the quiver in his voice with the vest, head still spinning. “Sorry, I don’t know why I made that sound. It was embarrassing, but wow that was just- I’ve never-? It was- _wow_.”

“Wow in a good way? Like I can do it again? Because, y’know, all for that. Or wow like wow, no.”

“Yes.” Wirt blinked, suddenly not sure what he was answering and shook his head just enough so he’d feel it, but not enough to make him move. “Wait, no- I mean, the first and the second thing. Yes to those. And the third thing. I… I think I’m all for that, too. Yeah. That’s- yeah, it’s a good wow.”

“Again, then. Okay. Yeah. Let’s-” He had to shut up. He had to shut himself up or he was going to implode, so cupped Wirt’s chin and picked up where he’d left off. It wasn’t blind need this time, but exploration and a little teaching since the “I’ve never” was still ringing in his ears.

This time Wirt’s heart fluttered, something akin to butterflies bursting into frantic flight in his belly. He was able to close his eyes this time, letting whatever this was happen and wash over him. This way he could really feel the way their mouths connected, soft sounds still escaping Wirt’s as he cautiously picked up on what to do himself, and he was incredibly conscious of every part of their bodies that was touching. His death grip on him eased up and his hand slipped inside his vest, stroking along his side over the t-shirt he wore beneath it.

“Okay,” Dipper murmured, only breaking the kiss when air became necessary. His lips still brushed against Wirt’s because he couldn’t make himself move back just yet. “New life goal - kiss you as much as humanly possible.”

“That’s a reasonable life goal,” Wirt replied softly, remaining just as close. “I can’t complain.”

“Good. I kind of need you on board for-” His phone jangled in his pocket, his sister’s notification tone, and Dipper sighed. But he couldn’t let it go unanswered. She and Greg would both worry. He leaned back a bit, still very conscious that he was still effectively in Wirt’s lap, and swiped his finger across the lock screen to read her message.

_Back at the shack, safe and sound! :) Are you??? Safe and sound, not at the Shack. Greg says hi, too._

“They made it,” he explained, texting back quickly. _k, in a cave, there in 30._ “We should probably get going.”

“Yeah.”

Wirt cleared his throat, scooting up some, though he didn’t have much room between the boulder and Dipper. He was loathe to move the latter, as evidenced by his hand still against his side, but thinking that actually reminded him to be a little flustered, so he dropped his hand almost guiltily. His gaze wandered to the side, in search of the bike they’d abandoned.

“We’ll… we’ll be fine getting back, right? What am I saying? You can’t know know that for sure. Never mind.”

Dipper laughed, leaning forward to brush a kiss to the base of his ear while his head was turned. “I do know that. We’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a reason I told you to come this way.” He rose, taking Wirt’s hand to help him to his feet, and withdrew his portable blacklight from his pocket. He carried it a little further into the cave and held it up to the wall, revealing an arrow.

He grinned over his shoulder, pleased with himself. “This comes out near the Shack.”

Wirt’s eyes rounded and he relaxed exponentially, enough to smile back at him in the purplish glow of the blacklight. “How are you pretty much the most incredible person I’ve ever met?” he found himself asking before he could stop himself, then blushed and glanced up towards the cave ceiling in mild mortification.

It was then he realized his hat was still missing. Wirt dropped his gaze to the floor, spying it’s shape over by the boulder still. He hurried back to grab it, then fit it over Dipper’s head for him, brushing strands of his hair behind his ear for him as he set it right.

Dipper shrugged, smile a little grateful and a little embarrassed and a lot fond. “Welcome to Gravity Falls. I’m Dipper, and I’ll be your tour guide,” he joked.

Wirt rocked back a bit, huffing out a small laugh. “What kind of sights should we expect to see on this tour?”

“Cave formations, a waterfall - there’s dozens in this town, let me tell you - and probably a few stops for making out along the way. I’ve got this new goal I’m trying to meet.” He brushed his thumb against Wirt’s lower lip, leaving him at the back of the cave to grab his bike.

Eyes wide, Wirt pressed his lips together, lightly touching them with his own fingers. Seriously, he was incredible. He’d somehow managed to orient himself in the woods and know exactly where this cave was that could take them home despite a tree-chucking monster stampeding after them and he’d found a way to calm him down in a matter of minutes. He really didn’t even have to do anything, just being around him was enough to make Wirt feel… safe. At ease.

He turned around to watch him come back with the bike - still pretty much okay despite being chucked to the side like it was nothing as they’d darted behind a boulder. “Thank you,” he had to say when Dipper was close enough.

“You’re welcome.” He shrugged, retrieving his flashlight from his pocket and offering it. “I don’t know what I did, but okay.”

It was how he kept his mind focused. How he protected him without a second thought. It was everything. Wirt took the flashlight and flicked it on, shrugging back with a smile. “Just… you being you. Now uh… how many make-out stops are there exactly, Mr. Tour Guide?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see the poetry? Wasn't it beautiful?  
> Wirt the Rapper. Poetic Pilgrim in the house. Make it happen.
> 
> Also, on a more important note I suppose, how about that chase scene? Intense, right? And cave fun times. And insecure babies. And Tour Guide Dipper. Pssh, who doesn't love Tour Guide Dipper? Everyone loves Tour Guide Dipper. Everyone needs Tour Guide Dipper. Especially Rapper Wirt.


	12. Chapter 12

“Mabel?”

It had been chasing them. Turning them into trees. Turning Wirt and Dipper into trees before gobbling them up in its mouth full of angry, sharp teeth. He could still feel the ground shake and hear The Beast’s song in the dark. _Chop the wood to light the fire_.

Kneeling on her bed, the room dark in the middle of the night and he felt alone, Greg put his hands on Mabel’s arm and shook her. He was hesitant at first, nudging her lightly, but when that didn’t seem to work he pushed on her arm a little harder, as he raised his voice just a touch above a whisper. “Mabel! Mabel, wake up!” he called urgently.

Her brow furrowed, eyes squinting open. “Baby, what’s wrong?” She reached out for him, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes. “What is it, Greg?”

Fear still gripped him tightly as he trembled. Even with her attention, even knowing he didn’t have to be alone anymore, tears began pool in his eyes as his breaths came in short, shallow gasps. The monster had gotten them. That’s why it took them so long to come back home. It had gotten them and it had taken them away forever and he didn’t want Wirt to be gone forever.

“I want Wirt!” he sobbed, burying his face against her. “The monster- it- it didn’t really get him, right? He’s- he- he doesn’t ride his bike fast! He’s slow! Did they come home? I want Wirt!”

“He’s okay, shh. We saw him when they got home, remember?” It had taken them longer than the thirty minutes Dipper had texted her, and she had a pretty good idea why judging from the permanent blush etched on their faces and kiss-swollen lips, but they’d certainly made it to the Shack. It had been difficult keeping Greg busy while they’d waited, eventually the duo and their trusty pets waiting on the porch.

She sighed, pressing a light kiss to the top of his head, and fought back a yawn. He was a strong little boy, but he was still a little boy and she couldn’t deny him his brother. She sat up, cradling him so he could cry on her shoulder, and slipped out from beneath the blankets. “Come on. Let’s go have a sleepover in Dipper’s room.”

“Are they there? What if they’re not there?” he sniffled and shuddered. “In my dream they got turned to trees and eaten! What if that really happened!”

“They’re okay. I promise, baby.” She grabbed an extra pillow since Dipper never had enough, then the heating lamp Jason Funderburker was sleeping under. When he croaked at her, she smiled tiredly and coaxed him onto Waddles’s back. “No monster’s going to get you or Wirt here.”

She nuzzled him gently, carrying him up the stairs to the attic. Her twin, a light sleeper when he did sleep, squinted at them the moment his door opened. “Mabel?” he whispered, wincing when she plugged in and turned on the heating lamp for the frog.

“Wirt?” Greg looked up at Dipper from over Mabel’s shoulder. His lip quivered and he had to bite down on it when he couldn’t see his brother on the bed, his breath hitching hard. “Wirt!”

The lump of under the covers curled up between Dipper and the wall started, wiggling until Wirt sat up and blinked at the two newcomers. “Greg? What’s wrong?” he asked, concern cracking through his sleep-slurred voice. “What happened?”

“Scoot,” Mabel ordered, setting Greg down on the bed before crawling onto it herself. She settled against the wall since she knew how much her twin preferred the edge, fluffing her pillow and stealing some blankets. Wirt’s shoulder was patted sleepily. “He had a bad dream, and wanted to see you, so sleepover time.”

When the animals arrived, Jason Funderburker hopping onto the desk to sleep beneath the lamp, and Waddles curling up under the desk, Dipper sighed and laid back. “Okay.”

Wirt wrapped his arms around Greg, letting him nestle against his chest as he rubbed his back. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, resting his cheek on his head as he looked down at Dipper. He mouthed, _sorry_ , then slid down the bed to recline a bit more. “Everything’s alright, Greg, just go back to sleep.”

“You’re okay?” Greg’s question was mostly muffled by his nightshirt, but he heard it nonetheless.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He hesitated a minute, glancing from Dipper to Mabel. While he normally had no problems discussing nightmares with Greg to make him feel better, he wasn’t sure if that would keep them up or disturb them while they were trying to sleep. “You… you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Greg shook his head. “I just don’t want you to be a tree or get eaten and never come home.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because none of those things are ever gonna happen. Promise.”

“Is it a rock fact?” he sniffled.

“Of course it’s a rock fact,” Wirt assured him when he looked up, bumping his forehead to his with a smile, hoping it would coax one out of Greg as well. It didn’t, but he didn’t appear to be crying anymore, even though his breathing was still shaky. “Besides, even if it wasn’t, you know that Dipper and Mabel wouldn’t let any of those things happen either.”

“No way, man,” Dipper agreed, rolling onto his side and slinging an arm across Wirt’s waist. “Mystery Twins have this covered.”

Mabel giggled, reaching over to pet Greg’s hair. “We sure do! Everything’s going to be just fine, Greg. I promise.”

Greg looked at her first, then over at Dipper. “Really?”

Wirt couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Glad to see you have so much faith in me on my own.”

“I do,” Greg protested, hugging him tighter. “But it’s good to have help sometimes. People to look out for you and you for them.”

The older brother softened. “Yeah. Yeah, that is good to have. And we all have that.” He tilted his head, smile warm as he shifted it to Dipper while Greg rolled so he was snug between Wirt and Mabel.

The twins linked hands, a silent signal that they would provide whatever barriers needed to keep the half-siblings between them safe.

Mabel smiled. “Think you can sleep now, Greg?”

“Maybe.” Greg looked from her to Wirt. “Will you stay awake until I fall asleep?” he asked.

It was a familiar request that he had no problem agreeing to. “Yeah, I’ll stay awake.”

“Thanks, Wirt.”

When Greg closed his eyes and attempted to fall back asleep, Wirt quietly addressed the twins. “You guys go to sleep, too. We did have kind of a crazy day.”

“Not really,” they replied in unison, then looked at one another and shrugged.

Mabel still settled down, though, wrapping herself around Greg as much as possible while still giving him access to Wirt. Dipper smiled, tucking his chin on Wirt’s shoulder.

He smiled back, even if their nonchalant response had him a little concerned for their sanity. Or at least their ability to perceive danger. Greg fidgeted against him, brow furrowing a little even as he kept his eyes shut. Wirt pursed his lips as he debated for a minute, then settled on humming softly. The little tune had the creases between his little brother’s eyes fading as he listened to the song rather than whatever fears attempted to whisper at him.

Mabel fell asleep first, Greg following suit very soon. Wirt hung on a little longer, but the humming faded into steady breathing. Dipper studied them all in the dim glow of the heating lamp, lips firming into a determined line. He had to solve this puzzle for them and for the town, and he would.

He cuddled closer to Wirt, placing a kiss to his temple before closing his eyes. He’d solve the mystery and keep them safe, as he always did.

 

\----

 

He’d been through the original three journals backwards and forwards too many times to count. He knew every single word, so was frustrated with himself when he picked them all up to comb through them again. A tree monster, or a monster made of trees.

What could it be and how could they stop it? He didn’t want Greg to have any more nightmares, and time was running out. They had two more nights together. Two and a half more days. It really wasn’t fair. He wanted the entire summer, at least, to spend with them. To spend with Wirt.

He really needed to stop wallowing in that and get to work.

The loose paper wedged amongst the pages on a secret underground bunker had Dipper blinking. The pages were pretty hardy, considering how old the things were, so what...? His breath hitched because the handwriting wasn’t the author’s.

_Sweetened by the summer sun_  
_Words whisper in the trees,_  
_‘What a time it is, what a time for love,’_  
_Trickles like raindrops through the leaves_  


_By you my thoughts have been consumed_  
_Though artful and discreet_  
_Cool breath of fresh air, you are to me_  
_In the midst of stifling heat_  


_Staggered by you I have become_  
_The brilliance that your mind exudes_  
_I am caught up in every word you speak_  
_Entranced, enhanced, and imbued_  


_Linger just a moment longer_  
_Let shoulders brush, fingers entwine_  
_I have lost myself in your soft, satin eyes_  
_While I whisper unheard, could you be mine?_  


_What a thing to ask, what a thing to presume_  
_That I could possibly be worthy of you_  
_You are summer, you are life_  
_And I am stained with autumn’s hue_  


_How could I drench you in decay?_  
_How could I smother your sun?_  
_The light that bled truth into me_  
_And carried me anon_  


_So I will not waste your time with mine_  
_It has taken so much already_  
_I am content to watch your smile shine_  
_As you make my heart unsteady_  


Dipper read it once, then twice, and then he was scrambling out of bed, tripping over his blankets and landing hard on his face. He hissed, but it wasn’t enough to deter him for long. It was ridiculous and sweet and so romantic, and he felt like such a girl for thinking that, but what other words were there?

He wasn’t anywhere in the house part of the Shack, so aimed for the gift shop and museum, and immediately winced when the door met something solid. “Sorry! Sorry, I wasn’t-” He blinked, realizing he had exactly who he’d been looking for right there, and yanked him through the door to drag him into a kiss.

Wirt’s sound of surprise was muffled by his lips, his balance only maintained by placing one hand on the wall and the other on Dipper’s shoulder. “Um… not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” he asked once they broke apart.

“I found it. You probably could’ve left it after the first four stanzas, since you were all wrong in the last three, but the whole thing was just- It was _beautiful_ and how does your mind even work like that? And do you really think-? I mean, you made it seem like- I’m not that special, but you made me feel like- wow.” He threaded his fingers in Wirt’s hair, his other hand curling into the back of his sweater, and couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Oh.” Color pooled in his cheeks and burned the tips of his ears, but he let himself be pulled in and took to resting his hands on Dipper’s waist. “I was… I was wondering when you were gonna find it. You really liked it? You didn’t think it was too sappy or anything? Because I mean, I do really think all those things and you are special and I’m sorry about the last three stanzas, but in my defense I didn’t know that you liked me back at the time, so… I’m sorry, I’ll write you a better one. If you even want one, that is.”

“No! No, way! That one’s- I loved it! I love the way your mind works with things like that. I-” _I love you_. It was nearly said, ready to burst out of him as easily as the words were said by his sister, but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Instead, he pressed their lips together again and said it that way.

Wirt participated more actively this time, not as stunned by this second kiss. “Well, your mind’s the one that gets my mind working like that. And you know… the rest of you, too.” Smile bashful, he let go of his waist to take one of his wrists, sliding his fingers down so they twined with Dipper’s. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Yeah, I did. I seriously did. I’m probably going to end up framing it like an idiot, but whatever.”

“Oh man.” Wirt squeezed his hand as he laughed, the sheer relief and twinges of pride flooding him. “Oh… oh, I hope it didn’t interrupt your research. How’s that going?”

“It completely derailed everything, but that’s okay. I’m kind of stuck. There are literally dozens of monsters roughly matching that thing’s description, and not a single one is anything close to native here.” His brow furrowed before he dropped it to Wirt’s chest. “What were you doing before I hit you with the door?”

Wirt shrugged, smiling to himself as he took to adjusting Dipper’s cap for him. “I was just heading upstairs to grab a book. I was thinking about going outside to read for a bit. And um, also to check on you. You know, see how you were doing.”

“I took care of one of those for you, so you're welcome.” Dipper drew back to lead the way towards the stairs. “Might take a break if something doesn't click soon.”

“What are you stuck on now? Specifically?” he asked.

“I need to figure out what the monster is and where it came from. Once I know that, I'll know how to defeat it and where Gideon's been.”

Wirt nodded, brow furrowing in thought. “Where would someone even go to get a monster? I mean, it’s not like you can just order one online, right? And why get something that isn’t native here? There are plenty of creatures in your journals that he could’ve used. Maybe. I- I dunno.”

“He doesn’t know about them all. He only ever had the second journal, and the majority of that one is, like, alchemy and objects. The only monsters really mentioned are the weres, so... It keeps going back to them, and I’m at square one again.”

They entered Dipper’s room, one boy heading straight for the whiteboard while the other went to grab a book from the pocket of his suitcase. Wirt glanced over at it and all the notes scattered on the desk and the bed and the floor. Tapping the binding of his book against the palm of his hand, he pursed his lips as he joined Dipper by the whiteboard.

“Let’s just think about what you know for sure. You know about Gideon, you know about the wereanimals, you know about the monster,” Wirt started, looking to him to gauge his reaction.

“Yeah, we do know all that. We also know that he took a folder of blueprints, and we know about the guy he escaped with. International kidnapper and burglar, which, you know, of course he would be. Gideon grabs people who he thinks will be helpful.”

Dipper huffed, chewing on the end of his marker as he glared at the board. There were still so many question marks. Why, which should have been simple, was still a jumble. “We know he wants Mabel and he wants revenge on me and Grunkle Stan, so why is he focusing on weres and the town? Why hasn’t he come here?”

“Well, the only things we know he’s been directly involved in with the town are the blueprints and then whatever he took from the diner and that he’s connected to the monster because they were there at the same time and he knows about wereanimals, but maybe he can’t control this thing? Maybe he just set it loose in the forest and somehow led it into town when he needed it. And then you have to figure out what it is and how to stop it while he builds whatever he needs from those blueprints. I mean, he needed them for something. Maybe it’s why he hasn’t come here yet, he’s waiting until it’s finished.” Wirt shrugged.

“If he didn’t have some control over it, more of the town would’ve been damaged. Ugh.” It was another question. _How does Gideon control the monster?_ He wrote it down, frowning at the board. _How do we use that to stop it?_

_Where is Gideon? What’s he building?_

He capped the marker again, hands going to his hips. “But you’re right. He has to be building something.”

“What sort of things does… McGucket? McGucket usually build?”

“Robots, the memory wiping gun, a lot of robots. Like. A _lot_ of robots. He should probably be stopped. He built one last summer that tracked down the werewolves. Big win for me and Mabel, but Gideon tried the robot route - I told you. Punching him in his stupid little face was-”

He broke off, backtracking over his own words, and blinked. “Track down the werewolves! All these things always know so much about each other. They’d have to know - if it’s hunting them - If? No, wait. No if. It’s hunting them, right, and when you’re a specie that’s been hunted forever, you learn how to deal with enemies. You learn about your enemies. We have to go back to McGucket. Hopefully that robot’s not one he got rid of when he rebuilt his shack.”

He grabbed Wirt’s shoulders, giving him a quick kiss. “It all keeps going back to the weres!”

Wirt laughed, his fervor contagious. “Okay. Let’s see about that robot and then go talk to some werewolves.”

He started to agree automatically, eager to be off and gathering more pieces, but the afternoon before - running from a monster - and the night before - dealing with Greg’s monster-caused nightmares - were still fresh in his mind. “Are you... You still want to come? I can promise that I’ll keep you and Greg safe, but I can’t promise we won’t see that thing again.”

“I don’t expect you to promise that. It’s out of your control.” Wirt shrugged a little, smile soft. “But yeah I still want to come. I want to see as much of this through with you as I can. Even if I never thought I’d say, ‘hey, let’s go talk to werewolves,’ willingly, while knowing there’s some tree monster out in the woods hunting them. I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

 

\----

 

They didn’t see the thing again, which was a relief, and McGucket had helpfully remembered some of blueprints that were in the stolen folder. Dipper had taken note of the memory ray being among them, keeping in mind one of Wirt’s theories about Gideon possibly erasing Mabel’s mind.

There were still holes in that one, though, but he kept it stubbornly in mind the way Wirt in general stubbornly stayed in his mind. He gave him a squeeze, the old bike with its busted chain still off in another part of the woods. They didn’t really need three when he could just hold on.

He glanced at his twin, watching her whisper to Greg and the frog he’d refused to leave home. Dipper hoped it wouldn’t be a problem as werebeasts tended to hold the whole concept of “pets” in contempt, but he had no intention of letting it be a problem. His sister and Wirt were both loaded with protection, while Dipper had resigned himself to going in on his own. The only thing he had was a knife he’d very specifically neglected to mention, but it wasn’t for protection.

Following the odd little robot - the thing looked like a large lady bug for no real reason - hadn’t yet lead them where they needed to go. “Still okay, Wirt?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied, keeping pace with Mabel and keeping the robot in sight pretty easily, though he glanced over his shoulder to flash him a smile. “This is nothing compared to trying to ride with Greg sitting on the handlebars. That kid wiggles.”

He laughed and decided to do his own version of wiggling, waiting until Wirt had turned back to lean down and kiss his neck. “I’ll pedal on the way back,” he offered.

“I’m serious, I can handle this.” The kiss made him blush, but the smile stuck. “You focus on cracking the case and I’ll focus on driving the bike. You’ll probably have a lot to think about after talking with them, too, it might be safer for us both if I’m the one steering.”

“Yeah.” He rested his chin atop Wirt’s head, leaning with him when the humming little robot turned and began to slow. The sounds were just reaching his ears, the menagerie of animals and voices not quite what he’d been expecting. If the werebeasts were sticking together, their numbers were low, and it changed the game.

As much as he needed to keep Gravity Falls, the town, safe, he needed to keep the creatures that made it what it was safe too. “Hey, uh, don’t freak out. There are a couple small ritual kind of things that have to be done to get answers from these guys. So... Y’know, I know what I’m doing. I’ll be fine.”

“You know, you didn’t really start that off in the best way. What kind of ritual do you have to do that _might_ make me freak out and where you have to say you’ll be fine?” Wirt glanced back at him as he stopped pedaling, letting the bike gently glide to a stop alongside Mabel’s when the robot paused.

“Okay, yeah, I guess I did start that off kind of bad. But it’s not. I mean, it’s not like I have to go kill a multi-bear or anything. Not that I went through with that. I _almost_ did, but he was cool. We talked it out, and I’m rambling again so.” He hopped off the back of the bike, Mabel swinging off hers and setting the kickstand before retrieving Greg.

“Multi-bear?” Wirt blinked, confusion clear on his face as his gaze followed Dipper, then he shook his head and set the kickstand for Dipper’s bike as well.

“Multiple bears,” Greg chimed in as he was set on the ground, as if it was the obvious answer - which it sort of was.

“Basically.” Dipper moved forward carefully, edging closer to the sounds and gesturing the others to stay where they were. Bushes provided good enough cover, but his heart was starting to race a little as he gazed at the gathering. Dozens of beasts, in all manner of specie and shifts, clumped together.

And he was supposed to step in there. Oh, boy.

Swallowing hard, he backed up and rejoined them. His vest was shed and dropped onto his bike’s handlebars. The blade was removed from a pocket and tucked into a back one of his jeans. “Okay, so one of them’s bound to know what we’re dealing with, so I’m gonna go in, ask them a couple questions, and get out. You guys just stay hidden. Including you, Mabel.”

She saluted, finding Greg’s hand to give it a little squeeze. She had her priorities in line.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Wirt took a step toward him, gaze flicking between him and Greg and Mabel.

This was a bad idea, and he knew it, but smiled anyway. “Yeah, man.” He tugged off his hat, considered leaving it with his vest on the bike, and secured it on Wirt’s head instead before tugging off his shirt. At least he didn’t have to take off his shoes or wear a loincloth as he had with the Manotaurs. This was such a bad idea.

Wirt blushed more from the hat, one hand going up to secure it as if it could so easily be whisked away from him. Of course, his gaze did linger on his chest for a moment or two before he forced his eyes to meet Dipper’s. He swallowed and nodded, moving to stand over by Greg and Mabel, but he hesitated. Before he could back out on the decision, he walked up to Dipper and pressed his lips to his cheek.

“Be careful,” he told him. “Get out of there if things go bad, okay?”

“I will. You just stay out of sight.”

Dipper walked back to the bushes, not bothering to sigh when he realized his ever-curious twin was on his heels. A least he could trust her to stay hidden for Greg’s sake, so he only glanced back once. Her thumbs-up was returned with an eye roll, his hand reaching back to grab the knife.

He curled his hand around the handle and, blowing out an unsteady breath, left the safety of the bushes to face the weres. It was an odd array of those that looked completely human, completely animal, and odd formulations of what was in-between.

There were hisses and howls as he and his knife made his presence known. Such a bad freaking idea. For a moment, as a snake slithered across his shoe, the instructions from his journal skittered away. But then he glanced back at the three huddled in the bushes behind him, and took a steadying breath. He needed to get this right.

A werebear reared onto his hind legs, his roar sending fear shooting down his spine. But he lifted the knife to his palm and held it, waiting for the cacophony to calm. “My name is Dipper Pines,” he announced, “and I know what you are. I know something is wrong in the forest, and I know I’m going to fix it. But I need you, I need one of you, to tell me what I’m up against. What is the monster in the woods?”

Whispers surrounded him, making his ears ring with doubt, but he held his ground. “Tell me! Tell me, and I will protect you. By blood, I make this oath.” He hissed as the blade slashed his palm, nearly dropping the knife. But he held his hand up, blood spilling down his wrist. Ow, ow, ow, ow. “Tell me what’s in the forest.”

“You will not defeat the trees, boy.” It was the snake, but she was a woman now. Her tongue flicked his cheek, forked and as snakelike as her glowing eyes.

“Mortal. Your blood means nothing.”

“The man of the wood will end you.”

“He will end us all.”

Their words swirled around him, but he stayed where he was until an elder stepped forward. He was part wolf, his bearded face seeming like a muzzle as he cocked his head to the side and grinned, his canines sharp and deadly.

Though he was internally shaking, Dipper met his gaze. When the world fights, fight back. “Tell me what’s chasing you.”

The elder stepped closer still, taking Dipper’s hand. His nails were claws when they brushed the cut, deepening it further, and Dipper couldn’t help the wince. “He is a man who is not a man. He is one with the trees, and he uses them.” The werewolf used Dipper’s blood to paint two quick dashes beneath his eyes, and he struggled not to whoop at the sign of acceptance.

“Let not his splinters touch you, mortal, lest you perish.”

Dipper threw up his other hand when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, stopping three werebeasts from advancing upon the trio behind him. “You’re dealing with me, not them.”

They bowed their heads and shuffled back when the elder glared at them with eyes as red as the blood he’d placed on his face. “He hunts us,” the werewolf continued, “because we are plentiful. Our numbers are lower now, and we have grown adept at hiding from his hunger. You are next, mortal. You and your village. Death is swift only for the lucky when followed by the man of splinters.”

Splinter Man. His heart skipped a beat because now he had the name. Now he could really solve this puzzle.

“I’ll defeat him.” Dipper curled his hand into a fist, squeezing tightly, and his blood dripped to the ground. “By blood, I make this oath.”

“And by blood only shall you break it.” The elder moved back and, as Dipper watched, his body contorted into that of a large, silver wolf. Others followed suit, the mangled and mismatched pack disappearing into the forest, leaving the four humans alone.

Dipper turned around. “That. Freaking. _Hurt_. Mabel, bandages.”

She was already up, pulling a roll of white bandages from her pocket to wrap her twin’s palm. “So what now?”

“We look up Splinter Man, and we figure out how to destroy him.” Dipper shrugged, wincing when Mabel pulled a little too tight. “No big deal, right?”

“You made a blood oath with a werewolf,” Wirt pointed with a shaking hand in the direction the pack had vanished in, his other gripping Greg’s wrist tightly as he pulled him along to stand beside the twins. “A blood oath! What happens if you don’t keep it? If you can’t keep it? What if this thing doesn’t even have a weakness? He’s so dangerous, even his splinters can kill you! And shouldn’t you disinfect that? I’m pretty sure you should disinfect that. You don’t know what he’s touched- what other blood oaths he might’ve made. He put your _blood_ on his _face_.”

Dipper smiled weakly. “I told you not to freak out.”

“You didn’t tell me he was going to put your blood on his face!” Wirt pressed his hand over his heart, general panic giving way to distress. “And I’m sorry if I’m freaking out, but it’s just a little bit terrifying seeing someone you really care about surrounded by potentially dangerous wereanimals and bleeding! Are you okay?”

He cupped Wirt’s cheek. “I’m fine. Seriously. I’m fine. I told you there’d be rituals and, you know, that’s a big one.” He released him to take an offered cloth from Mabel, grimacing a little as he wiped his own blood from the blade. “And, well, if I don’t keep it...”

“‘By blood only shall you break it,’” Mabel echoed, tipping her head. She didn’t want to say it the full explanation in front of Greg. “You’re a poet, Wirt, you know what that means.”

His heart hammered heavily. He knew what it meant. Wirt pressed his lips together tightly, chin quivering as his gaze dropped to the knife, then to the ground. He needed to not look at either of them for a minute. His fast, frantic breathing stopped almost on a dime, levelling out even as his chest tightened. He felt Greg squeeze his hand, picking up on the difference. He wasn’t just upset anymore.

Told him there’d be rituals. Yeah, sure. Except he left a rather big and important part out of that little tidbit of information. It wasn’t quite betrayal he was feeling, but it was close enough for him to feel mad about it. Hurt that he didn’t tell him and scared of what could happen should this Splinter Man not have a weakness - because honestly what did they know? - but the tight flare of anger held them at bay. Or maybe they fueled the fire. He didn’t really care to reflect on that at the moment.

“Well, we’re done here then, yeah? Let’s go.” He managed to keep his voice even, looking up without making eye contact.

The twins winced, and Mabel patted her brother’s shoulder. “Good luck with that, bro-bro,” she whispered and he glared at her. She shrugged and started back for the bikes, keeping a deliberate distance from Wirt. She hadn’t thought he knew how to get angry, so silently cheered him on even as she stayed well out of the line of fire herself.

Dipper sighed. “Look, don’t... It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” Wirt agreed, turning around to follow Mabel, taking Greg with him who could only look between him and Dipper. “If you say so.”

“Why are you mad at me?” Exasperated, Dipper ran his hands through his hair. “It’s going to take some research, but I can figure this out.”

Wirt froze and bristled, but he didn’t face him right away. He inhaled slowly, then let it out before flicking his gaze to Greg. He released his hand to place his palm on his little brother’s back to nudge him ahead.

“Go with Mabel,” he told him, voice deceptively soft.

Greg looked at Dipper again. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes going back to Wirt.

“Fine. Just take Jason Funderburker and go with Mabel.” Wirt waited for Greg to take a few steps forward, expecting the boy to glance at them one more time, then nodded for him to continue and turned around to face Dipper, the bill of the cap shading his eyes. “You’re really asking why I’m mad?”

He'd almost rather face the werebeasts again. “Yes.”

Wirt exhaled heavily and angled his head away. “You didn’t tell me what this meant,” he started, eyes narrowing. “You told me there were small, ritual things that you had to do to get answers. Do you really think cutting a deal with your life as the collateral counts as a _small_ , _ritual_ thing? Because I sure don’t!”

He gestured to himself before going to rake his hand through his hair, starting when his fingers jostled the cap. He took it off, well-aware what it meant for his hair but he didn’t care in the slightest, and glared at the faded pine tree when he realized it was starting to blur. No. No absolutely not, he was mad. He wasn’t going to let his anger be dampened by tears.

“No,” Dipper admitted after a moment. “But if I didn’t, do you really think I’d make it out anyway? We know its name, now, and it’s not one I recognize, so I wasn’t even close. I know this is a huge deal, okay? I know. It’s not the first time I’ve risked my life for this town, and it’s not the first time I’ve done it for people I care about.

“I’m sorry, Wirt. I’m sorry I downplayed it, but... I’m sorry.”

“Yeah you downplayed it!” He lifted his gaze from the hat to meet his straight-on. “You said you trusted me! You can’t tell me things like that if you don’t mean it! I get why you made the deal and I get that you feel like you have to save the town and people and everything, but I don’t get why you lied to me,” he ranted, trying to say his piece before he lost the heat behind it, just like he’d already lost control over his decision not to cry.

“About the ritual and about trusting me. I’m sorry if me freaking out is a big deal to you, but it’s what I do even though somehow being around you calms me down, except when you pull something like this and- and if you don’t want to deal with that, then I understand and why can’t you just tell me that instead of lying?”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he repeated, feeling wretched as he watched the tears fall. He wanted to go up to him, drag him close and hold on until he stopped, but couldn’t move. “It doesn’t always come to that with them, okay? I wasn’t expecting- Their numbers are lower than I thought they’d be, and I didn’t know.”

Dipper scrubbed his hands over his face. “Okay. Okay, I knew the chance was there. It’s the ultimate pact, but I didn’t know the terms until they were said. And I should’ve told you. I know I should’ve, but that doesn’t have anything to do with trusting you. I do, okay? But I’m not- I’m not _good_ at it.”

The emphasis had him pause, wedged itself between the anger and the heartbreak to force him to take a moment and just look at him through his tears. Dipper appeared as pained as he sounded. Wirt’s breath hitched on a sob, fingers clutching the hat.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. “What can I do to make it so you can tell me things like this? I want to know. I’ll probably freak out, yeah, but I want to be on the same page as you. What can I do? How do I help you trust me?”

“I don’t know. I’m just...” He couldn’t do it. Dipper couldn’t stand away from him and watch, so quickly strode to him and dragged him close. “It’s not on you to get me to trust you. I already do. You know my biggest secrets, so it’s not on you. It’s me, okay? I forget things like this. I don’t have people like you in my life, Wirt. I have Mabel, and she goes with pretty much everything.

“You’re not like her, though, and I’m sorry. I’ll say it a million times if you want me to. If something crazy like this comes up again, I’ll talk it out with you.” He cupped Wirt’s face, brushing his tears away. “This is my fault, all the way my fault. So you tell me what I can do to make it up to you, and I’ll do it.”

“Just don’t do it again,” he told him, arms winding around Dipper to cling to him with little care that he was still shirtless. “You don’t have to say sorry a million times, you just- It felt like I wasn’t worth telling, and I don’t want to feel like that again. So just talk to me next time and that’s- that’s it. That’s all I want, okay?”

“Okay. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. You’re worth so much to me, Wirt. You’re so important. I never want you to feel less than that.” He tilted his head up, pressing their brows together.

Wirt swallowed, closing his eyes at the contact to just take a minute and breathe. “See, it’s hard not to believe you when you say things like that. You’re too nice and perfect.” He blinked back the rest of the tears, the boiling mess of emotions flooding out of him rapidly and leaving him fairly drained and pretty much pummelled by their rise and fall as he sagged against Dipper. “And you’re important to me, too. You know, if me being upset about the whole, ‘only blood shall break it’ thing didn’t already clue you in to that.”

“I get it.” Dipper held him better for support, gently rubbing his back. “I mean... Okay, yeah, I’d be really mad if this was you on the line instead of me, so I get it. I’ll solve it, though.”

“You better.” He ducked his head, nuzzling his neck a little before his embarrassment could swoop in and remind him that he still did not have a shirt on. “Also, when we get back to the shack, I’m disinfecting that cut. You don’t have a choice.”

He laughed, relieved that his anger had passed, pressing a kiss to the top of Wirt’s head. “You’re the one who’s too nice and perfect. Come on. Let’s get McGucket’s robot back to him, and then you can fuss over me, and I’ll get some work done.” He slipped his undamaged hand into Wirt’s, squeezing gently. “I won’t let you down.

 

\----

 

Hours later, Dipper was still in his room. His computers were humming, a secondary whiteboard was full of notes, and some of the magnitude of what he’d done had begun pressing down on his shoulders.

Splinter Man, man who was not a man and one with the trees, had no known weaknesses. None. Zero. There was nothing he found anywhere that told of a way to stop it. The poison from the splinters which had given it its name was incurable, he ate people - _ate them!_ \- and he was made of trees yet several sources cited him as being fireproof.

A flame retardant tree. Good god.

He dropped down into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands. He couldn’t tell Wirt this, but he couldn’t not tell him. Not after he’d promised to keep him on the same page.

He was just missing something. The puzzle stayed frustratingly incomplete.

“Hey, um…” Wirt tapped lightly on his bedroom door before poking his head in. “You hungry at all? It’s been a while since you’ve eaten, I think. Unless you’ve got a secret stash of food up here.”

“There’ve been enough creatures that have broken in here that I know better than to stash food anywhere but the kitchen.” He didn’t uncover his face, the heels of his hands pressing a little more firmly against his eyes.

Wirt inched in a little, observing him quietly before crossing the room. He stood behind the chair, placing both hands on Dipper’s shoulders and took a moment before rubbing gently. He pressed his thumbs in circular motions at the base of his neck, steadily gaining confidence in the motions.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. No. In-between, tilting more towards no.” He sighed, hands lowering as his head fell forward. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out how to not tell you the truth and not lie at the same time, and it’s not working out.”

He kept up the tentative massage, humming a soft sound of understanding as he glanced over at the whiteboard filled to the brim with information. “Listen, about what I said earlier… I meant it, yeah, but I don’t want it to stress you out. Don’t think about what you do or don’t want to tell me right now. Just take a minute to relax. Just do that for yourself.”

“It’s only stressing me out because I’m bad at this.” But he sighed, closing his eyes, and took a page from Mabel’s book. “I can’t find a weakness. None of my usual sources are panning out. I mean, there’s tons of stuff on the guy. Used to be this dark wizard, spell went wrong, inter-dimensional portals were opened, and now he’s this impervious, poisonous _thing_.”

“Wizard? Wow. Didn’t expect that. I just thought he was some sort of tree demon monster. Like The Beast or something. Too bad this guy’s soul isn’t hanging out in a lantern that we can just blow out.” Wirt paused to wrap his arms around Dipper’s shoulders, resting his chin on top of his hat. “No spell to turn him from an impervious, poisonous thing back into a non-impervious, dark wizard, huh?”

“He’s been around since, like, the 1880s, so... Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” He grabbed Wirt’s hands. “ _Wait._ ”

“Okay?” Wirt blinked, indeed waiting for Dipper’s mind and mouth to sync.

“A spell!” He didn’t want to dislodge Wirt, enjoying the proximity, but there was quite a bit on the line. He compromised, taking the time to pull him into a firm kiss between standing and going to his board. “Gideon has to be controlling this thing, right? At least on some level. He had to have gotten him here from India - did I mention he was last seen in India eating elephants? How freaking disgusting is - wait, off track. Okay.”

Dipper scribbled wildly on the board, transferring ideas from one board to the other. “Splinter Man still has some of his magic, but it’s more like telekinesis and some mind control. Gideon’s got a lock on that. He’d be able to handle that.”

He returned to his chair, fingers immediately flying over the keys. “Let’s see if mysterious books went missing from an Austrian museum - where Splinter Man was born - formed? I don’t know. Either applies. I mean, Gideon has a thief on hand. He uses his resources, the little creep, and he would have- _Yes_! Yes! Yes, freaking-”

He spun to Wirt again, face flushed and eyes bright with the thrill of discovery. “Oh my god, we’ve got it!”

Despite this not being the first time he’d seen Dipper’s mind in action, Wirt was still blown away by it. His heart was racing in time with his, caught up in his excitement and understanding, loving the adorable delight lighting up his face. So he kissed him.

Dipper was still in the chair, so it had been easy enough to tilt his head down and brush their lips together. It wasn’t their first kiss, not even close at this point, but it was the first one he’d initiated so far. It was short and light, but it made his cheeks warm and his heart flutter all the same.

“Oh.” Thoughts completely derailed, Dipper blinked once. Then a second time. It didn’t help. “Okay.”

Wirt eased back a little, meeting his stunned gaze shyly. “Was that… was that okay? You’re just really adorable and… I wanted to...”

“No, that was fine. That was good.” He reached out to grab his hand, lacing their fingers together. “What was I even talking about?”

“How you got it,” he told him, lips quirking up with the gentle reminder. “Gideon using his resources and controlling Splinter Man.”

“Right, that, yeah. How _we_ got it. You helped majorly.” He rubbed the back of his neck, grin spreading. “So museum’s don’t usually scan whole books, but it looks like there are a couple of pages in a PDF. I’ll check those out and see if anything pans out. If it doesn’t, we just have to track down Gideon.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Wirt’s eyes dropped to his lips, drawn in by his smile and brushed a kiss to the corner of his grin. “Um, so… is there anything else I can do? Mabel and Greg were making snacks when I came up here, which was why I asked if you were hungry, so I mean, I could save you some? Unless they’ve eaten them all, but in that case I could make you something, if you wanted. Oh, and they wanted to ask about a movie night tonight, if you’d made enough progress with Splinter Man and yeah…”

He laughed. “Considering the huge leap of progress you just helped me with, I’m all for a movie night. And I could absolutely eat.” He hadn’t been hungry while miserable, but now his stomach was cramping. It had definitely been too long since he’d eaten. “I’ll come down with you, so my brain can reset.”

“You need to take care of that brain.” Wirt smiled, stepping back to let Dipper get out of his chair. “I’m pretty fond of it, you know. And the rest of you, too.”

“I’m touched that you’d put my brain first.” He wrapped his arms around Wirt for a brief, tight hug, and pressed a kiss just beneath his ear. “Thanks, seriously. Trusting you actually helped, and that’s... kind of big for me. So thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I’m just glad that you do, even if it’s tough for you. I get it. I’ve had my trust broken before and it… it’s the worst, it really is. So I know it’s a big deal.” He rubbed his palm along Dipper’s back, relishing the embrace. “I mean it when I say you’re pretty amazing.”

“So are you, Wirt.” He drew back, nudging their brows together after shifting his hat out of the way. “Trust me.”

 

\----

 

After a plate of homemade nachos had successfully been devoured - with both Wirt and Dipper having to fend off Mabel and Greg since they’d already had a chance to eat and this is Dipper’s snack, Greg, you already ate popcorn and candy and Jason Funderburker did, too - Dipper had returned to the attic to begin perusing the PDF files of the missing museum text. Wirt barely had time to miss him though, as he was immediately hauled off by the sleeve of his sweater after he’d finished cleaning up. Mabel was on a mission and that mission involved him, apparently.

They passed through the living room, Wirt catching a glimpse of the twins’ great-uncle sitting in his chair with Greg perched on his lap, both of their eyes glued to the TV. He wasn’t surprised to see it was some fighting show, Stanford Pines’s tastes having become extremely transparent during the time he and Greg had spent at the Mystery Shack. While fighting wasn’t something he necessarily wanted Greg exposed to, there was only so much he could do. Plus, it helped that he didn’t really understand what was going on aside from one person “getting” the other person.

“Grunkle Stan! Is he gonna hit him in the face?” Greg asked excitedly, while Wirt sighed inwardly.

“If he knows what’s good for him, he will,” Stan replied, absently ruffling Greg’s hair.

Mabel just giggled at them, continuing to tug Wirt along. “Okay, so I didn’t really know what to do all the way right away. I made a dozen sketches before I picked one. You give me the most trouble out of anyone ever,” she teased, bouncing up the stairs.

“I’m sorry?” He smiled as he let himself be dragged right into her room. “It’s not intentional. So you’re showing me the final sketch you decided on?” he guessed.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Of course not! Why would I do that?”

She released him to pick up a carefully folded sweater from her desk chair and offered it, the pattern hidden. For once her smile was a little shy, but this was important. She wanted him to like it. She needed him to, and this was just the reason why she didn’t tend to make sweaters for her family. She didn’t question why he and Greg felt like brothers to her, as the feeling was normally such a pleasant one, but it made her nervous now.

Wirt’s eyes rounded, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ as he reached out for it. “It’s… you finished it already?” he asked, astounded at the speed given that they’d been in and out of the house several times over the past two days.

It was soft against his fingertips, so he hurriedly unfolded it to hold it out and get a look at it. His face immediately lit up, eyes tracing the single line of dark red and dusky yellow argyle pattern against the solid navy blue on the left half of the sweater. Little black music notes stood out over the argyle, adding that subtle touch of personality that Mabel’s sweaters were known for, while keeping it within Wirt’s comfort zone. He grinned at her, turning it around to hold it up against his chest. It looked like it would fit - who was he kidding, of course it would fit.

“Mabel, it’s perfect,” he told her. “Thank you so much, it’s… I couldn’t even imagine something like this! It’s- it’s so me. You’re incredible.”

Her laugh spilled out, relieved and delighted, and her arms wrapped tightly around him. “Try it on!”

He hugged her back with one arm, the sweater still clutched in the other, before he handed it to her so he could pull the one he was wearing over his head. They swapped and he was pleased to find that it was pretty much an ideal fit for him. It wasn’t baggy and it wasn’t too tight, with just enough room at the collar for the shirt underneath. He tugged on the hem a little as he looked down himself at it, then held his arms out at his sides to check the sleeves.

“So. How does it look?” he asked.

“With complete and total bias, I’m going to say it looks pretty great. You really like it, though? I was just going to leave the music notes on the sleeves at first, but then I liked how they looked in the middle of the argyle too. It was definitely different to knit something without a huge picture in the middle, but I put one here anyway.” She patted his chest, just over his heart, smile bright and wide.

“I do. I really like it. It might be my new favorite sweater.” He glanced down at where she was patting, then tugged on the collar to check the inside of the sweater and immediately blushed. “Yeah, okay. It’s my new favorite sweater.”

Stitched on the inside, right over his heart, was a pine tree. It was pretty much identical to the faded one on Dipper’s cap. Wirt smoothed the sweater back down, embarrassed but delighted just the same.

“I thought you’d like that.” She laughed, leaning against him. “You know, you’re really good for him.”

Wirt blinked at her, a bit uncertain. “You really think so?”

“Of course! I thought you were cute together before, but then you were so mad at him, after the werebeast thing. He doesn’t always tell me everything when we’re out doing something, or if he gets an idea in his head, and sometimes he just does the dumbest things. He always gets out of it somehow, so I don’t let it frustrate me anymore.

“Someone needs to break him out of that, and I’m glad it’s you. He doesn’t trust anyone ever - not all the way, I mean. He doesn’t know how. People have been hurting him forever - including me sometimes, but... He needs someone who won’t turn on him, and I don’t think you will. So you’re definitely good for him, Wirt.”

He glanced down, brushing his fingers over where the pine tree lay hidden. “I really can’t imagine turning on him. I didn’t even think I could get mad at him until earlier, but that was… it was so dumb. I mean, we talked it out and I get it now, and I… I just want to be there for him. You know, in whatever way I can. It… it means a lot that you think I’m good for him, Mabel. Thanks.”

“I don’t think enough people tell you that you’re good for things.” She reached up and fussed with his collar, straightening even though it didn’t need to be straightened. Then she lifted to her toes to kiss his cheek. “Will you go get him? It hasn’t been long, not really, but he should come down. We should get our movie night started! And maybe find something a little less violent for Greg to watch,” she joked.

He blushed a little and smiled. “Yeah, sure. He’s probably done reading the PDFs by now anyway.”

Wirt squeezed her arm, then took his other sweater with him back up to the attic to put away while he was up there. He’d actually been a little worried what Mabel had thought of him getting angry at Dipper, unsure of where she stood, but having her approval, her belief that he was good for her twin brother was like… Well, it was more than just a weight lifted from his shoulders.

He knocked lightly on the door before opening it, peering inside to see Dipper laughing to himself as he wrote something on the whiteboard. Wirt’s lips quirked up as he turned around to face him. “Hey, um… Mabel made the executive decision to start our movie night in a few minutes, and I second it because your uncle has Greg watching various people and things fighting each other. Are you ready to come down?” he asked, tossing the sweater over to his suitcase.

“Well, I was just-” Dipper looked from Wirt to his whiteboard, brow furrowing. After a moment, he capped the marker and set it aside. “Okay. Yeah, I’m in.”

Wirt tilted his head, eyeing the scribbles just over Dipper’s shoulder. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m sure they can wait a few minutes more if you’re in the middle of something. Need any help?”

“No, it can wait for tomorrow. I mean, you already helped me a ton.” He went to his desk, reaching for his camera. “Just let me turn this off.”

He lifted his brow. “Helped you? You mean the stuff I said earlier about the spell? Come on, that was all you. You would’ve figured it out.”

“More than just that, but come on, it was not all me. I was in a huge rut and you pushed me out of it.” Grinning, Dipper flipped open his journal and reached for his pen. It wasn’t in his pocket and he squinted at a box on his desk, full of broken “thinking pens.”

He grabbed the pen of invisible ink instead and, not wanting to keep Wirt waiting, jotted a quick number before walking over and tracing the stitching on his sweater. “An original Mabel production?”

“Yep.” Wirt smoothed it out a little, his fondness for it clear. “And new favorite sweater.”

He laughed easily, fresh discovery softening the blow of still being without a distinct weakness. As he’d feared, what pages had been scanned hadn’t been all that helpful. He hooked an arm around Wirt’s waist, leading the way out. “So, listen, I think I figured something out, and I want to run it by you. But is it cool if it waits for tomorrow? Just table mystery stuff for a couple hours?”

Wirt glanced at him, a little curious, but more just checking on how he was faring. “Sure,” he agreed with a smile and shrug. “It’s probably a good idea for you to take a break from all this for the night anyway. Have some fun.” He bumped their hips together. “You can pick the movie. If Greg hasn’t already beaten you to it.”

“If he did, and it’s awful, that’s not so bad. Just gives me a reason to convince you to hide in the kitchen and make out with me.” He gave him a squeeze before taking his hand, the stairs safer to navigate that way. “Might do that anyway. We’ll see.”

“Oh.” His cheeks colored as he laced their fingers together. “Well… if you’re taking votes, just know that mine’s for hiding in the kitchen.”

Dipper grinned, and was entirely content when they spent most of movie night far away from movies.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angry!Wirt is very fun to write. All passive-aggressive and a dork <3
> 
> Also, his poems are just as fun to write, but they take a very, very long time. Enjoy it, because there probably won't be many more xD Just kidding. Wirt is a poet, he needs to be writing more poems all the time. 
> 
> But what did Dipper find out? Why can it wait until tomorrow? How will they stop Splinter Man? Who knows, man. Who knows... (Pssst, we do because we're the authors. Fact.)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare to have your souls destroyed.

It was annoying. It wasn’t always, as he did genuinely enjoy working at the Shack, but as Dipper took over the cash register so Wendy could get a break, he was just plain annoyed. His gaze scanned the little crowd, lingering with a huff on Grunkle Stan. Three tour buses in an hour had halted his plans for the day entirely. Solving the mystery had been set aside consciously the night before, but now that it was a new day, he needed to get back to it.

He needed to tell Wirt what he’d come up with, and Mabel and Greg. But he wanted to hear what Wirt thought first.

So it was definitely, completely annoying to sit there and ring up orders and deal with change. At least he wasn’t stuck restocking shelves like his twin. Her math wasn’t quite good enough for the barely functioning cash register, and her penchant for giving things away for free kept her far away from it as long as Grunkle Stan was actually around.

He brightened some when Wirt peeked in, beckoning him over. He couldn’t talk about Gideon and monsters while behind the register, but he was all for having some company.

“You know, I think you might be scaring off potential customers. You’re glaring at them like they kicked your puppy,” he told him when he sidled up to the counter, teasing smile falling a little as he imagined the poor, hypothetical puppy. “And they would deserve it.”

The glare faded into a smile of his own. “Yeah. I kind of just don’t want to be here. Other stuff on my mind, you know?”

“I know, I don’t blame you.” Wirt leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “How much longer are you in for?”

“Wendy’s taking twenty, so at least that long. You finish your book?”

Wirt shook his head with a fond smile. “Nah. Greg came in and wanted to play that we were in The Unknown. Then that somehow became a pirate ship adventure. He’s drawing us a treasure map now and gave me permission to come see how you were doing.”

“Well, you are the captain. Nice of you to get permission to abandon your own ship.” He reached out, taking Wirt’s hand because it had been too long. Just a couple of hours since Grunkle Stan had reminded the twins that they hadn’t done a single thing in the Shack that entire week, but too long nonetheless. He’d wanted to head off to Gideon, get the spell they’d needed, and banish a monster before lunch so they could spend the rest of the afternoon just being normal teenagers, figuring out where this relationship was going.

It was their last full day together, and he was painfully aware of how much of a waste it was to not be able to pour every bit of his attentions on him. “By the time Wendy gets back, Mabel should be done. We can make a break for it.”

Wirt grinned and squeezed his hand. He too was well-aware that it was their last day. The text he’d received from his mom, letting him know their plans for tomorrow was a cruel reminder, wrenching at each of his heartstrings. His gaze dropped to their hands as he rubbed his thumb over the back of Dipper’s. He didn’t want to tell him, to shatter this last day and his high of discovery, but…

“I got our flight information for… for tomorrow. Our flight leaves at four o’clock, so we’re getting picked up around noon. To make sure we have time to get to Portland and through security and everything.”

Dipper’s grip tightened. He wasn’t ready to let him go yet. The summer still stretched out before them, and the thought of not spending every single day of it with Wirt broke his heart. But it would be impossible for Wirt to stay, he knew that. His ticket was bound to be nonrefundable, and his family had already given them a week extension.

He knew it was impossible, but he still hated it. “Okay. Um. Okay, yeah, that’s... That freaking sucks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, offering a small smile. “Twenty minutes,” he promised, “and we’ll get out of here.”

“Twenty minutes.” Every minute counted now, with less than twenty-four hours together. “I’ll let Greg know so we can keep this treasure hunt short.”

As if on cue, the Employee’s Only door swung open to reveal the seven-year-old. “Captain Wirt! You’re needed on the bridge!” Greg called for him, tea kettle on his head and frog on top of that.

“Be there in a second, Greg. Hoist the anchor for me,” Wirt replied, then waited for Greg to nod before hopping away and he flashed Dipper a sweet, but still sort of sad, smile. “I’m needed on the bridge.”

Dipper tugged at him, cupping his waist to pull him close and fit their lips together. “If we’re not able to escape in twenty, stage an escape. Admiral’s orders.”

“I’ll mutiny against myself,” Wirt laughed, then kissed him back before tugging the bill of Dipper’s hat down and taking a step back. If he didn’t distance himself now, he’d just hover around him at the counter for the remainder of the twenty minutes. “See you soon, admiral.”

“Aye-aye and other naval words,” Dipper joked, pushing his hat back up to grin. “See you.”

Wirt waved shyly, then disappeared into the rest of the Mystery Shack to embark on the quick, twenty minute treasure hunt. It would be fruitless, they had no treasure to find, but it was journey that mattered, Greg pointed out to him, not the destination. Wirt supposed that was true for their trip here, too. While Gravity Falls, Oregon was their destination, along with giving back the journal page and letting the twins know they were alive and well, it had opened up to a new journey, that had no end in sight.

At least, Wirt didn’t think it did. Physically they’d be apart, yes, but that didn’t mean everything had to end. Not when it had only just started. Right?

 

\----

 

The moment Wendy stepped back in, Dipper was gone. He was mid-transaction and left a very confused customer for the redhead to handle, but they had a monster to defeat and a thirteen year old creep to chuck back into prison. They had hours left together - _hours_ \- and he needed every one of them.

Mabel met him at the Employee Only door, and Dipper just stared at her and the item she held. “What is that?”

“I was thinking I’d give Greg a grappling hook.”

“Wirt will kill you.”

She giggled. “I was thinking I’d give Wirt a grappling hook to hold onto for Greg.”

His eyes rolled, but he let it be. It probably wouldn’t come in handy in Massachusetts and there was probably a good chance that Wirt would “forget it” when they left, so he figured it was harmless. Completely crazy in the way only his sister could get away with, but harmless.

When he shoved open the door, an excited, “Dudes!” had him bristling. As much as he thought of Soos as his best friend, he had plenty of time to hang out with him. There were only hours left with his... What were they?

He bit his lip, ducking his head. They’d gone on a date, as much as their time watching the nymphs play in the woods could be called that, but did that make them boyfriends? Would Wirt freak out at the label? Did they even really need a label, or could they just be two guys who really liked each other? But then that didn’t seem to lend itself to exclusivity, and Dipper was basically, kind of, totally in love with Wirt and was all about keeping this exclusive.

But what was he supposed to call him?

As wrapped up in his thoughts as he was, he entirely missed whatever it was Soos said that had Mabel squealing, and blinked, looking up at her. “That’s so exciting!”

“What is? What’s exciting?” Treasure map in one hand and a hook cut out of paper in the other, Greg bounced into the room at the sound of happy squealing, with Wirt following at a more sedate pace. “Are you getting a pet unicorn?”

Mabel laughed, thrilled with the idea. “No. Dipper won’t look for them.”

“Hey, you got fairies and merpeople. Live with it.”

She laughed more, twirling back to Soos. “I’m so excited, though, really! Is she staying a while?”

“Just for next weekend. She wants to see Pioneer Day.”

Dipper started to shudder, but paused. “Wait. Melody’s coming? Hey, cool! That’s great, Soos!”

“Who’s Melody?” Greg asked, looking up at Soos.

“Oh, whoa, little dude, she’s like... the coolest girl. She’s the best.”

“She’s his girlfriend!” Mabel sing-songed, hips swishing on each syllable.

“Ohh.” Greg’s face lit up with understanding. “And she lives far away so she’s coming to visit because she misses you?”

“Oh, dude.” Soos laughed, embarrassed but delighted. “Yeah. She lives out of town. Her family’s there and her job, you know? But it’s cool. We talk all the time and she’s totally coming to visit.”

“They’ve been long distance for a few years,” Dipper supplied, “but they...” He stilled, staring at Wirt. “They make it work.”

Wirt smiled at the handyman. “Oh, that’s nice that you’re able to get that time together, then.”

He felt eyes on him and turned to meet Dipper’s stare. Concerned, his hands went to his head, as if to smooth out his hair or fix whatever was out of place that had caught his attention, but then his mouth fell open to form a small “o” of understanding. Long distance. Making it work. Two things that were about to become very important very quickly for the both of them.

Dipper went from quietly stunned to determined in a split-second, reaching out for and taking Wirt’s hand to drag him towards his room. “Soos, we’ll definitely talk later! I’m glad she’s coming for real! See you later!”

“Oh, but-” Mabel placed her hands on her hips, jabbing herself with the business end of the grappling hook. She looked down at Greg and shrugged, a smile forming. “Ob-waffle.”

Greg gave her a thumbs up. “Ob-waffle,” he agreed, then tugged on Mabel’s hand. “Want to help me finish my treasure hunt while we wait for them to stop being waffles?”

Though Wirt wasn’t feeling very much like a waffle as he was given little choice in the matter of following Dipper to the attic. Not that he was complaining, though, he was just trying not to trip over himself and fall down the stairs like a clutz. He clutched at Dipper’s hand and the banister to give himself some semblance of balance when he nearly slipped.

“Whoa! Dipper we don’t have to run. Walking is a thing. A thing that’s especially good for going up stairs when two people are sort of attached by the arm.”

“Sorry. Sorry, I just-” He slowed his pace, letting Wirt adjust. “Look, I want to- I was thinking- Wait, I’m still working this out.”

“Okay. It’s okay, take your time to make sense of what you’re trying to say.” Wirt squeezed his hand. “I think I’m following? You want to talk about making it work. For us.”

“Yeah. I mean, if that’s-” Dipper huffed, muttering mostly nonsense under his breath until they could get into his room. He kicked the door shut, pausing when he caught sight of Wirt’s clarinet propped against his sousaphone. The weirdest of duets, but it could work.

They could work.

He turned back to Wirt, jamming his hands into his pockets only to spring them back out to use them as he spoke. “I know it’s a huge, huge thing to ask. I know it’s a huge thing to even think about. I mean, we’re talking the biggest gap we can have and still be on the same continent. And there’s a three hour time difference.

“And... and it would be hard. I mean, it’s a _huge_ deal. But so are you, man. You’re a huge deal to me. You’re so important. But I know this week’s been, like, the craziest thing ever and we haven’t even won yet - I know we will, though. I have this theory of where Gideon is, and- And that’s off track, oh my god, stay on track.

“Listen, I want to try. At least? We can text. We can actually be pen pals like you told your parents we were anyway. We can still talk and that’s, like, that’s fine. I _like_ talking to you. I just want this thing - whatever you want to call it, if you even want to call it anything - I want it to work. You’re worth it. You’re worth the distance.”

He raked his hands through his hair, dislodging his cap. It was caught on reflex, but he didn’t immediately put it back on. “But you’re part of it, too, obviously, so if you didn’t want it to work, that’s cool. Okay, no, that’d be awful. But I’d get it. Just... I’m all in, Wirt. I’m all in for this, for us, if you are.”

Wirt’s cheeks had warmed during Dipper’s spiel, his blush prominent, but he was also grinning as he rocked back on his heels. “You finished?” he asked, just to be sure, having tried to interject several times before and finding contentment in waiting it out, drinking in the very words that made his heart skip and stomach flutter.

“Um. Yeah. I guess.”

“Okay, good.” Wirt settled his palms on Dipper’s waist and kissed him, sealing their lips together soundly before answering him. “I’m… I’m all in, too. I want this. I want… you.”

Dipper tugged his hat on backwards, keeping the bill out of the way before winding his arms around his neck so his fingers could curl into his sweater. “Seriously? Don’t say it unless you mean it.”

Wirt ducked his head, nudging their foreheads together. “‘I never saw so sweet a face as that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling place and can return no more.’” His lips quirked up, sheepish in his recitation. “I mean it. I think we can do this. You’re kinda stuck with me, at this point. If you want to be, that is.”

“Yeah, I want to be.” Their lips met again, held. “We’ll make it work.”

“And on the bright side, think about how incredible it’ll be when we do see each other. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder. A poet said that. Nobody knows who exactly, but hey, if it worked for them, it could work for us.”

“If my heart got any fonder, it’d bust open.” He kissed him again, unable to help himself. “But next summer, we’re getting more than a week.” Because they would still be together a year from then. Dipper refused to settle for less. He couldn’t let Wirt go and was increasingly certain that he might never let him go. “We’ll pool our money together or something to get plane tickets, but we’re getting more time next time.”

“As soon as I turn sixteen, I’ll get a job or something and save up to come out here and see you. Save all that birthday and Christmas money, too. We’ll have way more time,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around him for a warm, tight hug. He didn’t want to lose this yet.

“Just keep watching my videos, Poetic Pilgrim. You and three million other people are paying me to do something I’d do anyway. I still can’t believe you left that dumb comment, by the way. Like. Why?” But Dipper was laughing when he kissed him again, not needing or wanting an answer when he was feeling giddy and hopeful. They would work. One hand released his sweater to cup his cheek, angling his head to deepen it. They had to work.

The answer he received was an appreciative murmur, any lingering embarrassment over that comment lost to him as he lost himself in this moment. Wirt slipped his hands under Dipper’s vest, clinging to his shirt to keep him for a few minutes longer. When their lips parted for air, Wirt brushed their noses together before trying to speak.

“We should…” Their mouths bumped one another when he didn’t pull away enough and just ended up kissing him again. “Your theories… we should- we were gonna talk about those.”

“Uh-huh. Kissing now, theories can wait.” Dipper nibbled on Wirt’s lower lip instead, gliding his tongue over it and then between to make good on the words. His hand left his cheek to tangle in his hair, determined to keep him in place.

“Dipper…” His breath hitched as he eagerly kissed back, tugging him closer. Theories could definitely wait for this, they didn’t have much more time for this. But still…

Wirt dropped his head, brushing his lips against Dipper’s neck in an attempt to keep his heart from beating right out of his chest or his mind spinning away from him while still keeping the closeness. “The town needs you,” he murmured into his skin, ignoring the persistent _“I need you”_ trembling in his fingertips. “Save the day and then we can do more of this. Whatever you want until I have to go.” He pressed his lips firmer where his pulse thrummed strongest.

“That’s not-” He wasn’t sure whether to tilt his head forward to stop him or let it continue, Dipper eventually letting tilting his head back on a sigh to provide him better access. “Don’t care what we do as long as it’s us, y’know?”

“Yeah.” He nuzzled the crook of his neck. “Honestly, we could just be sitting in your uncle’s chair watching terrible movies and I’d be happy. But solving mysteries definitely has the excitement factor to contribute. And you look really cute when you figure things out.”

His laugh was a little breathless, color stealing into his cheeks. “One more, and then mysteries. Okay? Give me one more.”

“Two. Two’s better,” Wirt compromised, lifting his head to kiss him mid-laugh.

His laugh faded into a greedy little noise that he didn’t bother to feel embarrassed by. Two was much, much better.

But he had to settle for one, vaguely aware of his bedroom door swinging open and then too aware of his twin’s familiar voice. “Hey, guys, I- Oh. Whoops.”

They parted quickly, thanks to Wirt’s startled jump backwards where he less than gracefully stumbled right into Dipper’s desk chair. Luckily he fell into it rather than onto the floor because of it. “Hi! Yes, um, hello, Mabel. Did you- uh, did you need something?” he asked while trying to right himself, more sprawled than actually sitting.

Mabel lifted a hand to at least try to hide her mirth. Between Dipper's glare and Wirt's adorable embarrassment, it wasn't easy. “Hi. Want us to come back later? We can do that.”

Dipper’s glare was made a bit more non-threatening when his mouth shifted dangerously close to a pout. “You’re the worst.”

She couldn’t help the laugh then, waving a hand. “Sorry!”

“Wirt, did you fall on your face again?” Greg asked, popping out from behind Mabel into Dipper’s room.

“No.” He stopped fighting gravity’s pull and stayed slumped in Dipper’s chair, mostly because it had wobbled a bit and the last thing he wanted to do was actually fall on his face after his little panicked episode.

“Did you fall head over heels in-?”

“ _What_ do you need, Greg?” Wirt interrupted.

“We found the treasure!” he declared proudly, letting Wirt have his way. “And it’s been more than the twenty minutes you said we had to play, so isn’t it time to solve the mystery of the mystery?”

“Plus, I wanted to maybe talk to you about letting Greg have the grappling hook I already gave him, so...”

Dipper sighed, shaking his head, gearing his mind back towards the mystery at hand. “Okay, so, yeah, I think I may have figured out-”

The walls rattled. Mabel’s hand immediately closed around Greg’s, Wirt fell out of the chair, and Dipper bolted to the window to look out, eyes narrowing when he saw nothing. The walls rattled again, the Shack trembling with the force of something big coming their way. They’d waited too long.

Dipper backed up. “Okay, we need to go right now.”

Wirt scrambled to his feet, going to Greg’s other side and placing his hand on his shoulder. “Go where?” he asked, worry lining his eyes.

“To Gideon so we can stop this thing. We’ll take the cart, and-” He jumped, they all did, when something crashed through the window. “Get down!” Dipper shouted as it exploded and filled the room with smoke.

There was a louder crash and, Dipper, knocked off his feet thanks to his proximity with the smokebomb, could blurrily make out why. It wasn’t the monster, whose nearing steps were rattling the Shack continuously now, and it wasn’t Gideon. That left one option, and Dipper rolled to his knees to stand up and charge him. No kidnapper was going to touch his sister.

An angry roar from outside had him sucking in a sharp breath, though, and the inhaled smoke left him coughing hard. It was just enough distraction for him to run by and Mabel was shrieking in the next instant. “No! Greg!”

She was coughing, though, and the _smack_ Dipper heard had his blood boiling, and the words she screamed next had him shooting to his feet. “Give him back to me!”

It wasn’t his sister, but it was Wirt’s brother. And he didn’t have to be personally related to Dipper for him to be family, for him to lunge to his feet and tackle the blurry shadow. They rolled, Dipper’s ears ringing when his head hit the wall hard.

When the man stood, Dipper punched the back of his knee to take him down again. Though his throat burned and his eyes watered, he fought hard to wrench Greg free. He tucked the boy close to his chest, turning away quickly to run. When the collar of his vest was grabbed, he yelped and nearly dropped the boy entirely.

Greg grabbed him, clutching at his shirt like a lifeline, and the grappling hook Mabel had given him to hold was just barely snagged mid-air as the two boys were dragged out the broken window.

Dipper’s elbow flew back, and there was a dark sort of satisfaction at the crunch of his nose breaking. When his grip lessened, Dipper lifted the grappling hook and sincerely thanked Mabel for being completely insane when it latched onto the windowsill and halted their fall.

And then he was crying out again because something latched onto his leg. He looked back and his breath caught. The man, the felon, hadn’t fallen very far, and Splinter Man bellowed dangerously. His misshapen body was worse this close than it had been while fleeing from it in the woods, especially since now he knew what he was looking at.

A dark wizard who had lost his sanity to a need for immortality. Held in its palm - or what could have been its palm - the felon yanked at him. Splinter Man yanked as well, branch-like fingers curling around the felon’s waist. He threw off his gas mask, snarling at the teenager, and Dipper looked away, looked back towards his room and the smoke billowing out of the window.

He turned Greg so the boy couldn’t look over his shoulder and see what dragged them down, arm wrapped securely around his waist. “Don’t worry,” he wheezed, squeezing the button on the trigger that would repel them back up. It wasn’t working well, not with a monster and a prison-hardened adult dragging them down, but he kept his finger there until he lost circulation and soft snapping sounds buzzed in his ears.

The rope, caught on broken glass and pulled taught by the supernatural, was fraying and it was going to give up fast.

Dipper only had seconds to process and plan, so moved quickly. His vest was zipped up, securing Greg in the cloth before he could use his newly freed arm to snatch out his private paranormal journal. His hat removed from his head with more than a little reluctance, despite the speed he moved at, but there was nothing else to hide the pages in and he needed the journal to stay hidden. It was dropped to the ground, landing securely in a bush.

“Listen to me,” he wheezed, eyes and throat both stinging from the smoke they’d been dragged from. “I just dropped my journal, okay? Tell Mabel, and don’t let go of this. Do _not_ let go, Greg. You can do it.” He transferred his hold of the grappling hook to the boy’s shaking fingers. “Hold tight. Don’t let go until Mabel and Wirt have you. You’ll be okay.”

He released the grappling hook slowly, just to be sure that Greg really had a hold. He wanted to explain further. He wanted to pass a message along to his sister and to Wirt that would be easier to understand. But Greg’s grip was slipping, trying to keep them both up.

With a shaky breath, Dipper unzipped his vest, releasing the boy and letting himself be taken. If it were him or them, he would always choose them. He saw Wirt and Mabel’s heads pop out of the window just as he was enveloped by Splinter Man’s thorny hands and the felon’s meaty fist plowed into the side of his head.

“Dipper!” Mabel screamed, more than ready to vault out the window if it meant she could save him, but her gaze tripped down to Greg and she was grabbing the fraying rope with a desperate noise. “Hold on, baby! I’ve got you! Wirt, help me!”

“Greg! Greg, don’t let go!” he was shouting to his brother, getting a good grip on the rope and pulling as fast as he could, his gaze darting between Greg’s pale, shocked face and the monster below them.

He’d just taken Dipper, encased him in his splintering, tree-like limbs and Wirt could only just make out his unconscious form. He needed to get down there, he needed to help him. It wasn’t the first time he was willing to claw his way through a tree to save someone he loved. But with Greg still dangling precariously over the danger…

“Got you,” he gasped, when Greg was clear of the glass shards and wrapped tightly in his arms while he shook. “We got you, you’re okay. Dipper! _Dipper_ \- we have to get him! What do we do?”

Mabel shook her head, lips pressing together as her mind whirled. She wasn’t as smart as her brother, not academically, but she could think on her feet. She looked back out the window, seeking options, and her breath backed into her lungs before she was tackling Wirt to the side and back into the smoke.

Over their heads sticks and branches flew to pierce the walls. Several impaled themselves in the side of the Shack and the walls were rattling again. By the time Mabel made it back to the window, the monster was gone - and her twin with it. “No!” she wailed. “No, Dipper- _No_!”

Cradling Greg protectively, Wirt joined her back at the window. His stomach churned violently as his knees threatened to give out. “Dipper,” his breath hitched, chest heaving as the empty space where he’d been seemed to grow and encompass everything. “No, no. No, this isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.”

“Kids! What the heck are you-? What did you do this time?”

A leaf blower drowned out the rest of Grunkle Stan’s complaints - Why hadn’t they told him about a giant wood monster for him to replicate for the tourists? Why were they standing there in smoke like a bunch of knuckleheads? Why was-?

“Where’s Dipper?” he demanded, the room clear of smoke, and Mabel’s knees gave out.

She slid to the floor, surrounded by broken glass, and wanted to cry. Where _was_ Dipper? She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, a direct mimic of her twin’s familiar gesture. No, she wasn’t the so-called smart one, but she could and would save her brother at any cost.

“Gideon has him,” she replied, voice shaking, but she swallowed the tears and thought. “We’ll find him, Grunkle Stan.”

There was a stretch of silence, his jaw clenching. “Get off the floor before you cut yourself,” he grumbled and his thin-lipped stare passed over the two brothers. It softened a little, despite himself, because they both seemed terrified. “He’ll be fine. Dipper can take care of himself, and that little idiot Gideon’s nothing.”

Mabel looked up, smile slight. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan.”

He cleared his throat, and set the leaf blower aside. “Now I gotta get Wendy and Soos to clean up the shop.” He was turning away as he complained, footfalls and voice fading as he trotted down the stairs. “Giant monsters knocking over merchandise, scaring away customers - what is this?”

Mabel didn’t stand right away, still shaky. “Okay, Dipper said he knew where Gideon was. Right?” She looked at Wirt, face pale and eyes wide. “Did he tell you where?”

“No- No, he didn’t, I-”

They’d been kissing. They’d been acting like everything was fine with the world and kissing like there wasn’t some monster out to get them. Wirt slumped against the wall, still clinging to Greg - who’d been ripped away from him and Mabel both, he’d had his arm in his hand and then he’d been gone, wrenched away into the smoke - and he shook his head slowly, the horror settling in. Dipper had something to tell him. He was going to tell him where they were going and because of him they now had no idea. He should’ve pushed harder for the information, he should’ve kept Dipper focused because now Dipper was gone and hurt and why hadn’t he done more?

“He was going to. He was going to tell me and then we-” His voice broke and he felt Greg rub his back in an attempt to comfort him. “I don’t know where he is.”

“He dropped his book,” Greg finally spoke up, soft and hesitant. “He put it in his hat and dropped it in the bush outside. He wanted you to find it, Mabel.”

She let out a soft sound and scrambled to her feet, hissing slightly when her knee scraped on glass, but she had a mission now. “Okay! Stay- stay up here. Look at his whiteboard. See if he wrote anything down, okay?”

“Okay,” Wirt answered, feeling impossibly small as he turned to face Dipper’s handwriting, the sheer amount of notes staining the whiteboard. “Okay.”

There were arrows and circles and things smudged in haste. But there was hope. If Dipper wanted Mabel to find his journal, then that meant there was something inside that would help them, right? He clung to that, even as he couldn’t make sense of Dipper’s train of thought. He seemed to have been going in one direction before veering off somewhere completely different.

“Wirt?” Greg was looking at the whiteboard as well. “I’m sorry that-”

“It’s not your fault,” Wirt told him without hesitation, not willing to hear him finish that sentence. “It’s not, and we’re gonna find him and everything’s gonna be fine.”

Greg was quiet a minute, then said, “Okay.”

 

\----

 

When Dipper awoke, he realized two things very quickly - his head _ached_ and he couldn’t move his hands. The third thing he realized was a very violent demonstration as to why his head hurt so much. Fingers bunched in his bangs, Gideon crashed his head back against the post Dipper was tied too. He cried out, still too out of it to fight the wounded noise, and the younger teen laughed.

Gideon stepped back, head tilting back so he could stare down his nose at Dipper. “I. Wanted. That. _Boy_!” he shouted, slamming his foot on the ground like a petulant child. Dipper winced when one furious palm came smacking across his cheek. “You are _always_ in my way! You are _always_ stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong!

“And you!” he screeched, rounding on a large man in the corner. Dipper tried to be angry at him and largely succeeded, but the man was trembling. The teen’s gaze slid back to Gideon, watching him withdraw the memory wiping gun from the pocket of his suit jacket. “I told you he would get in the way! I told you I only wanted that little _menace_ who has stolen my queen’s heart, and-”

Dipper bristled. “Mabel is not your queen, Gideon.”

“Be quiet!” he shrieked, voice shrill as the back of his hand met skin. Blood trickled out of Dipper’s nose, lips parting so he could breathe through them, and he squinted at the so-called child psychic when he began to pace. He muttered to himself, flicking his gaze up and back down, and from the way the convict did the same, Dipper knew it wasn’t the first time he’d been subjected to that ray.

What he didn’t expect, though, what neither of them expected, was for this time to be the last.

Gideon lifted the gun and fired. At first, well, nothing seemed to happen. The man opened his mouth to speak, but words didn’t form. What came out was a gasping, shocked noise. He clawed at his throat, then waved his hands uselessly in front of himself. His eyes began to glaze over and Dipper had to look away when the massive felon collapsed to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut against the writhing he could see from the corner of his eyes, and wished he could plug his ears of the horrible noises he was making.

Gideon grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked, leaving Dipper with no choice but to look up. On the keypad was the simple word, “breathing,” and Dipper’s own air shuddered out. It should’ve been impossible. No one could _forget_ a process as natural as breathing, and yet...

Dipper looked over and his own heart seemed to stop because the man was looking at him. Eyes glazing, bulging out of his head. His skin was slowly tinting blue from lack of oxygen. And he was staring right at Dipper. He couldn’t look away, his own breath coming out ragged and choked. His wrists jerked helplessly, pulling desperately at the bindings because he couldn’t sit there. He couldn’t just watch. He had to help somehow, no matter that the man was a felon. Dipper couldn’t watch him die, yet couldn’t look away because this dying man was _looking at him_.

The movements in the corner ceased. Even as he lost consciousness, his lungs failed to fill with and dispose of air. His mind, that mysterious and ultimate force, had been compromised, even the concept of requiring oxygen for survival wiped away and leaving him dead on the floor. Dipper wheezed, tearing his gaze away from lifeless eyes, and looked up at Gideon.

The boy cracked a smile, and he knew he’d vastly underestimated him this time. This wasn’t the Gideon he’d known standing there, staring at a slowly stilling body with ripe fascination. “That’s alright,” he whispered. “That’s alright. I didn’t need him anymore. I got what I was after. I’m gonna get what I was after.”

He abandoned Dipper again, pacing and muttering under his breath. “What happened to you?” he breathed, curiosity stealing through him, unable to be squashed. And, the longer he made Gideon talk, the more time it gave the others to get there. Then again, did he really want them there? His gaze flitted to the convict, then back, and he swallowed. Greg, most of all, shouldn’t see that.

“What happened to me?” Gideon repeated. “What happened to _me_?! Oh, I’ll tell you, Pines. A year! A solid year of solitary confinement happened to me! Do you know what it’s like to be alone with your thoughts, boy? Do you know what it’s like to not see, hear, or even smell another person? My food was served through a black hole in the dang wall!” He smashed his fist just above Dipper’s head. “Things happen when you’re alone with your thoughts, with all the choices you’ve made in your life.

“And I started to realize I’d made all the wrong ones. I focused my attention on all the wrong things. Them journals and impressing Mabel. Now, Mabel’s still my number one gal, but she might not look as pretty after I’m done punishing her transgressions. But you can have those journals! I went out and found my own monster! I went out and tracked down my own mystery, and I didn’t have to stay confined in this valley to do it!

“I went overseas, boy, and brought this back!” He yanked out a book, and Dipper’s heart fluttered. He’d been right. The way to get save them all, to get rid of the monster, was in there. It had to be. New determination rose in him, and he began shifting his wrists a little. His desperate jerks had helped some, but now was the real push for freedom. He just had to escape, and he could get it. And then he could get out. The others didn’t need to see this, hear this, and he could and would free himself from the bonds.

“It even has the spell you have to use to banish the creature from this earth!” Gideon continued. “You want to read it, Dipper? He’s going to destroy the town tonight, you know. I have it all planned. He may even now be leaving the forest to feast on the people he hungers for. So how about it? Should I give this to you so you know exactly how easy it would’ve been for you to win? You want one more mystery solved before I silence you like I did that animal in the corner?”

His answer was a shaky exhale, and Gideon laughed, wrenching a page from the book. “Too bad, Pines!” He slapped the paper above Dipper’s head, the brunette watching as he retrieved a small blade from his pocket. He cringed instinctively as it was whisked up, but the slice was quick, the blade deathly sharp, and the paper floated down to Dipper’s lap.

Gideon stepped back, holding a single strip aloft to show him. “This here’s the last line of the entire spell. This is it, and there is not another copy around that you could get your hands on in time to save this precious little town. By morning, Gravity Falls will be a mistake of the past!” He crumpled the tiny strip up and threw it into the fire.

Dipper watched with wide, helpless eyes as their salvation turned to ash. But he could figure it out, couldn’t he? It couldn’t be that hard. It was one line. But when his gaze dropped down, his eyes unfocused and went glassy. Oh, god, he was so dizzy. The pain in the back of his head was nearly unbearable, even after he’d tilted his head back. The dizziness stayed, and he began to grow slowly aware of a wetness in the back of his head. Oh, god.

Gideon paced towards him, Dipper’s body going tense. As many monsters as he’d seen over the years, he’d never been so afraid in his life. This wasn’t something he could solve with his journals. This wasn’t something he could study and puzzle out before a solution could be reached.

This was madness. This was lunacy. Definitions could be written about this, but watching Gideon Gleeful descend right before his eyes was something Dipper would never fully forget because this was unpredictable. This didn’t follow the logical lines he tried to live his own life by.

He struggled when Gideon straddled him, wrists struggling against the tight knots of rope in a desperate attempt to get away. He could only try to melt back into the pole behind him when Gideon’s blade made its second appearance. This time, though, the knife was pressed against his neck until a single red drop flowed. “Now, then, let’s just make things a little more-”

He broke off, but Dipper didn’t question it until Gideon made a delighted little noise and pushed up his bangs. Dipper’s eyes sprang wide, sheer and absolute panic shooting down his spine. “Get off of me!” he shouted, going pale and forgetting his careful attempts of escape in favor of bucking desperately. “Get off!”

“My, my, my! Isn’t this just the cutest thing!” Gideon cooed and blinked wide, empty eyes at Dipper. “Why it’s awfully faded, but I think I recognize exactly what this is. The _little_ Dipper,” he taunted. “Why are you always covering this up, Pines? It’s so adorable.”

His birthmark. It was his biggest insecurity, his biggest weakness. Trembling now, Dipper shook his head. “S-stop.”

“Now now, Dipper, I’m not done with you just yet. And now with this brand new discovery, I got even more to enjoy! I was just gonna kill you, but this seems like so much more fun now! Why don’t we darken this birthmark up a bit, shall we? No need to hide, Dipper Pines. The world will forget you soon enough, but why not go out with style?”

He pushed Dipper’s head back against the pole, holding it there as his blade lifted. As the teen realized just what he was about to do, he managed to free one hand and shove him away. Gideon fell back, but recovered with enough speed that Dipper couldn’t get any further. Dizzy as he was, he doubted it was really much of a feat.

Gideon gripped his bangs, slamming his head against the pole so much harder. Dipper’s vision spotted and slipped. “N-no,” he stuttered, and his world went dark just as the blade dug into his brow and seared him with pain.

 

\----

 

At the Shack, Mabel flipped through the journal pages desperately. The only reason her brother would have left it behind was because it held a clue. She wasn’t as good at figuring out clues as he was, but she could hold her own in a pinch. And, more importantly, she knew her twin better than anyone.

Perched in his desk chair, her freshly bandaged knee bounced in time with her rapid heartbeat. “Here!” she cried. “Here we go. Notes on Gideon’s possible locations, blahblahblah, Dipper, where did he take you?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she slid her finger down the page and realized that every place on the list Dipper had written had been crossed out. “No,” she breathed.

“He said he knew where he was hiding though.” Wirt hovered over her on one side, hand braced on the desk, while Greg stood on the other, trying to peek up at the journal as well. “He came up with something _yesterday_. Why didn’t he write it down? Why wouldn’t he-?”

He cut himself off, staring hard at the page. It didn’t change the fact that everything had been crossed out, that this was the only place in his journal where he’d written down the potential locations. He’d flipped it open, made a list, jotted down a note on the list while he’d thanked him for pushing him out of a rut.

“He did write it down. I saw him. I know I did.” Wirt’s brow furrowed, gaze lifting to scan Dipper’s desk and fell on his collection of pens, skimming them until he found the one that was different from the rest and his realization dawned. “We need a blacklight. Where does he keep them?”

Mabel slid the chair back, yanking open one of the desk drawers. “Everywhere,” she replied, grabbing one of the stack, and clicking it on. The sound she made was pure relief because, though it wasn’t an actual location, she knew what the code meant.

_Gid-SM V#3!!_

“He made a video. Oh my gosh, he was recording himself rant again. Oh my gosh.” She pushed forward again, swiveling the mouse to kick on one of his computers. “Wirt, you’re brilliant!”

“Oh my gosh,” he breathed, fingers gripping at his hair as he watched the screen load. “He turned off a camera while I was talking to him, why didn’t I think of that?”

“You thought of the blacklight,” Greg supplied. “He left us lots of clues to help us if we needed it or forgot something.”

“Yeah, he did. That goober.” She typed in the password to his computer quickly, starting at the error message that popped up. She typed again, making sure every single number and capital letter was precisely typed, and made a distressed sound when the error message came up again.

“Dipper, no, why would you change your password? You only change your password when-” She looked back at Wirt, eyes going wide. “You! It has to have something to do with you. What are things Dipper associates with you?” She typed in three more quick guesses, wincing when a final error message popped up. Last chance, she realized, before Dipper’s computer locked everyone out. “Oh, no... Dipper, you _brat_!”

“Why would it be me?” He tugged on his hair harder, eyes wide with panic. “I just got here, how did he decide to change his password already? Oh my gosh, Dipper, _why_?”

“Because he really likes you and you make him smile and you wrote him a poem and you’re important to him, Wirt, you have to think of the password!” Greg told him, his optimism flickering with all the worry surrounding him, but it was still there. “You’re the Pilgrim!”

Wirt trembled as he met his brother’s gaze, then pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Okay, okay. He needed to think. They had one try. If Dipper changed his password because of him, what would he pick? What would he associate with him? Struggling to pick through memories of all they’d talked about during the past week, one caught his attention in the wake of Greg’s words ringing in his ears.

_“Stick with Poetic Pilgrim. It suits you.”_

Could that be it? Wirt lowered his hands and pursed his lips. It made Dipper smile, when he realized that had been his username and that stupid comment was his. The worst best comment ever. Technically, it was the first thing he said to him after getting out of The Unknown.

But would he make that his password? For one of his computers, something so important to him with all sorts of important things on it? He might’ve been important to him, too, but to make his username the thing standing between the outside world and Dipper’s digital trove of everything?

Nothing else seemed to click the way that did though. Wirt met Mabel’s gaze and tried to feel as confident in this as possible because it was their last shot. “Try ‘Poetic Pilgrim.’ Two words, both capitalized,” he told her.

Her hands were shaking as she hit the keys, but she hesitated over the submit button. She looked up at Wirt, then down at Greg. His round little face was screwed up as determined as possible, certain in his older brother’s words. Wirt’s nerves were clear, the corners of his mouth pinched. Still, he looked just as determined.

So she hit enter, and threw up her hands in absolute delight when the desktop appeared. “ _Wirt_!” she squealed, giddy now as she latched onto the mouse and navigated her brother’s folders.

Videos, Enemies, Logs, Gideon-Splinter Man.

There were three videos in the folder and Mabel double-clicked on the third to start it, praying for the right answer, and breathed a sigh of quiet fear when she saw her brother’s face on screen. Tongue caught between his teeth, he adjusted the camera and stepped back, palms held out just in case it wobbled.

“Okay.” Apparently satisfied, he began to pace. “Okay,” he repeated. “PDFs didn’t work out, of course, so... Hideouts. Hideouts, hideouts, hideouts - where can he hide? His old house is gone, the tent’s _been_ gone. Every single other idea I’ve had has been trash.”

He spun away from the camera, removing his hat to drag his hand through his hair. Even on a film he hadn’t intended on showing anyone, he kept his birthmark hidden. “Where are you, you little creep?”

Mabel hit fast-forward, waiting for the telltale sign of discovery in her twin’s body language. There had to be something. Why else would he have written this video code down, left it for them to find? At one point, she sped by him chewing on a pen hard enough to break it and her lips quirked just a little. That explained the invisible ink he’d had to use.

Near the end, she squealed and clicked back. Dipper had shifted to his computer chair, feet propped on his desk as he chucked a baseball in the air. His feet slid to the floor, knocking his journal along with them, and he sighed, reaching down to pick it back up. He stilled, eyes on the page it had opened to, and surged out of the chair with a triumphant sound.

“Wait. Wait! Oh my god! Wait! That’s it! That’s- Oh my god, it makes sense.” He smacked the back of his hand to the page. “Man, Wirt, you’re downstairs and you’re helping me. Okay. Okay, yes. The Blind Eye Society! Of course he’d be there! Totally secluded since we took out everyone’s memories of the place, and it would have all the supplies he’d need.”

Dipper went to his whiteboard and began to draw lines between connecting points, babbling to himself. “Attacking McGucket’s place wasn’t a distraction, it was a clue. The diner was the distraction. You wanted the blueprints for the ray, didn’t you, creep? Oh my god, Wirt, you were right _days_ ago!”

He laughed and started to write his conclusion on the board, when he was distracted. Off-camera, the teen he’d been praising despite his absence could be heard. “Hey, um… Mabel made the executive decision to start our movie night in a few minutes, and I second it because your uncle has Greg watching various people and things fighting each other. Are you ready to come down?”

“Well, I was just-” Dipper looked over his shoulder, then back at his whiteboard, brow furrowing as he tried to choose between this latest discovery and not letting them down. It was clear which choice he made when he capped the marker and set it aside. “Okay. Yeah, I’m in.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I’m sure they can wait a few minutes more if you’re in the middle of something. Need any help?”

“No, it can wait for tomorrow. I mean, you already helped me a ton,” Dipper replied, the words that had confused Wirt at the time becoming clearer. “Just let me turn this off,” he continued, and the video ended as his hand closed over the camera.

“He knew _yesterday_ ,” Wirt murmured, fists clenching as he stared at the little replay icon that appeared over the video player. If he hadn’t walked in right then, if he hadn’t distracted him, this could’ve ended and Dipper would be _safe_. A frustrated sound rumbled low in his throat and he had to look away from the computer. He couldn’t dwell on that now. It wasn’t the time for it.

“Okay. Blind Eye Society. If we take the golf cart, how fast can we get there?”

“Five minutes. It’s in the museum, in the basement.” Mabel hopped up, putting Dipper’s computer back to sleep before turning to grab both of their hands. “Let’s go save him.” She grabbed the pine tree cap to put it on her own head, but ended up securing it onto Wirt’s.

He nodded, determination overshadowing all else. “We’re getting him back.” This whole thing was going to stop today. The Mystery Best Friends were taking care of it.


	14. Chapter 14

While Mabel held no real interest in actively learning how to drive, she was more than capable of handling the Mystery Cart. While not quite as speedy as her twin, they were still definitely at the museum in five minutes. “Everybody okay?” she asked, turning the key and removing it from the ignition.

“A-okay!” Greg affirmed, held securely in Wirt’s lap.

The older brother undid their seatbelt and was out of the cart and setting Greg on the ground seconds after it stopped. “Yeah, good,” he agreed, though was distracted by his quick scan of the building, but not enough to keep from taking Greg’s hand in his. “You don’t think he has, like, secret cameras planted everywhere and is watching our every move and carefully calculating some sort of trap to befall us as soon as we get inside, do you?”

“He might,” Mabel replied honestly, but it didn’t stop her from mounting the stairs. Dipper was in there, and that was all that mattered.

While that was what mattered to Wirt as well, if anything should happen to them on their way to save him, then Dipper’s situation would certainly not improve. Still, he and Greg ran up the stairs after her. The reward of saving him definitely outweighed the risks.

They hurried in through the front doors and Wirt was surprised to find people actually perusing the museum, a person standing at the front desk charging for admission, all going about their business like there wasn’t some demonic, mastermind kid lurking in the basement with a tree monster, an escaped convict, and an unconscious teen. Everything looked completely ordinary, and his chest tightened because what if they’d been _wrong_?

“We need three tickets for the museum stat!” Greg pointed at the admissions clerk, his brow furrowed and cheeks puffed up as he mustered up all the authority he had. “Please!”

“Oh, aren’t you adorable? Would you like a complimentary balloon-”

“Tickets! Balloons can wait, ma’am!”

“Oh. Well, that’ll be-”

“Keep the change!” Wirt had barely glimpsed the sign dictating ticket prices and tossed a twenty and a ten onto the counter before nabbing the proffered tickets and hurrying further into the museum.

“But kids get in free!” she called after them, though it was in vain.

“I just remembered that we could’ve come in through the window,” Mabel supplied, herding the boys towards a room in the back of the museum. “None of them are ever locked.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do extra chores when I get home or something if I need to make the money back,” Wirt replied, gaze roving over the walls as they arrived in a room filled with an excessive amount of eyes. “What the-?”

It was darker in there than it was in the rest of the museum and Mabel cupped her elbows as she scanned the walls. It creeped her out, more than she’d like to admit, as old memories resurfaced and merged with worry for her brother. But she couldn’t waste time, so went to the wall opposite of the eerily burning fireplace. There was a slab hung there, another eye among so many, but this one had the attention of them all.

She pressed it and the fireplace moved, revealing a set of stairs that led down to an old red curtain. “Here we go,” she said quietly and beckoned the boys to follow her as she led the way down.

The first sound she heard was unmistakably her brother, but it made her heart wrench in her chest. Glancing back at Wirt, she cautiously parted the curtain just enough to see and began to tremble. Gideon was pacing in front of Dipper, tied to a column, and he was twisting the dials of a completed memory eraser.

 _No_.

 

\----

 

When Dipper next awoke, he was still dizzy and his forehead stung. Remembering, he instinctively flicked his gaze upwards as if to check the damage, but there was no way to see. He tried to lift his hands to wipe at his face - it felt splotched with something - and he had no idea, in that moment, that it was streaked with tears and blood.

His wrists had been bound again, the ropes tight enough to cut into his skin with each jerk he made to try and free himself. The sound he made, the wounded gasp for air, was his first clue that he’d been passed out weeping. His head bowed as he tried to get his breathing under control, and little plips of blood fell from his forehead to the incomplete incantation still in his lap. If he could read it, maybe he could figure it out. He’d read a million spells, after all, but he couldn’t get his eyes to focus and the attempts made his head ache that much more.

“Y'know what, Dipper, this works out mighty fine. I wanted to poison that little butterball boy, but this? This is so much better.” He began turning the dials on the memory erasing gun, laughing softly as he spelled out Gravity Falls. “Because this way, I get to completely ruin you. I get to take away everything that makes you great, and then I get to poison you with this and you'll have no idea what it is or how to stop it.”

He held a small test tube up, an innocent looking toothpick inside. “You know there's no cure for Splinter Man's disease anyway, but I like to think you'll die this way thinkin' there was some hope!” He smiled at Dipper, though he didn’t look up, and took careful aim. “And you know what I just realized? This is going to get rid of that little summer fling you've been havin'. That part's almost a shame. Almost.”

“No!” Mabel screamed, leaving Wirt and Greg behind the safety of the curtain. She sprinted over, tackling Gideon. The trigger was pulled on reflex, the beam flying harmlessly above Dipper’s bowed head.

When Gideon hit the floor, the gun flew from his too-tight grasp and skidded away. Mabel’s fist collided with his nose, eyes wide and wild. She’d never heard that sound from her twin. She’d seen him hurt, terrified, ashamed, and sad - but she had never, not once, heard that weepy, defeated gasp. Like he was choking on his own air. She never wanted to hear it again.

Gideon flipped her, sending her sliding across the floor on her back, and then got to his feet with blood pouring from his nose and pure, white hot fury on his face. “How _dare_ you?” he shouted and Mabel rolled when he lunged.

She caught sight of Wirt, slipping out from behind the curtain. His face was pale but determined. “Get Dipper!” she shouted and darted towards the memory gun. Her palms scraped on the uneven floor when her ankle was grabbed, tripping her up, and she spun to kick at Gideon. She just had to get to the gun, and it would be alright. Oh, she hoped Dipper was alright.

Wirt sprinted for him, an anguished sound choked out of him as his condition became clear. There was blood. All over his face, dripping from his forehead. His birthmark. Wirt’s fingers trembled as his hands hovered over him for a moment, reaching to cup his face and check him over, but that had to wait. Instead he tugged at the ropes binding him, digging his fingers into the tightly wound knots to loosen them.

“Dipper, it’s okay. I’m here, everything’s going to be fine,” he told him, though the babbling was more to help him get through untying him by offering what little comfort he could. “You’re going to be okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I promise.”

Completely focused on Dipper, Wirt didn’t notice Greg dart out from behind the curtain, heading straight for the gun. He picked it up and hugged it to his chest before Gideon could untangle himself from Mabel to take it again. His gaze sought hers, but as soon as the manic glare of her opponent settled on him, Greg increased the distance between them by running back for the curtain. Part of him wanted to run to Wirt and Dipper, to ask the leaders what to do next, but part of him also knew it was important to keep Gideon away from them for as long as possible.

“You give me that back, boy!” Gideon raged and Mabel’s fist plowed furiously into his face,

Dipper flinched at the sound of his voice, the soft sound he made absolutely broken. He couldn’t think, tears mixing with the blood still _plip-plip-plipping_ onto the page. He lifted his gaze to Wirt when the binding around his wrists was loosened, shaking and bloodied.

Wirt’s heart broke, his breath hitching as he froze under that stare. He ripped at the rope, tearing into it until the knot released its grip on his wrists and pooled on the floor. Without wasting a second, Wirt peeled his sweater off over his head and used it to dab at Dipper’s face, to clear it up some so he could have some visibility, so he didn’t have to feel his own blood trickling over his cheeks with his tears. He cupped the side of his face gently, keeping everything soft and tender even while inside he was shaking, equal parts panicking and furious.

“You’re okay. He’s not going to hurt you. I won’t let him. Mabel won’t let him either. We’ve got you, Dipper,” he murmured. “Oh, Dipper, I’m so sorry.”

He tried to fight it, really, but everything hurt. His brain hurt, his eyes hurt, his chest hurt as though someone had beaten on it - had someone? He couldn’t remember, but he’d been in and out of consciousness since arriving. And he nearly managed to keep from breaking apart, but the soft little apology had a sob tearing from Dipper’s throat.

When one broke free, more followed, and he pitched forward both to hide his face and simply because sitting up on his own had become a difficult chore.

Wirt caught him, one hand bracing him around his waist while the other went to cradle the back of his head. Blood soaked his palm and Wirt had to bite down on his lip to keep from sobbing as well. Instead he kept murmuring to him quietly, using his sweater to mop up the blood congealing in Dipper’s hair while he rocked him from side to side.

It was a good thing that Mabel was beating Gideon senseless, because even though Wirt was strictly a nonviolent person, he was very tempted to beat the crap out of the demon regardless. He would, if given the chance. But right now Dipper needed him to be there for him, so that’s right where he was going to be.

While he wasn’t strong by any means, he was determined enough to make up for it and shifted to try and pick Dipper up. It was an awkward angle though, and he knew that the only chance he had of carrying him out would be if he was on his back. Wirt brushed his lips over Dipper’s ear, taking the opportunity to give him a kiss along with the words.  

“I’m sorry, Dipper, but I’m going to need your help so I can get you out of here. It’ll only be for a second, then I’ll take care of the rest, but I need to get you on my back. Can you sit up on your own? Just for a second so I can turn around. That’s all.”

The sobs had faded with Wirt’s comfort surrounding him, and Dipper struggled to get his mind in gear. He still had the spell in his lap. There was still a very dead man in the corner that he didn’t want them to see - though thinking about that made his breath hitch again. It was so hard, with his head clouded and pain still shooting through him, but he sat back and pushed the spell at him with trembling fingers. “Wirt, I... We need to... It’s... It’s coming, and...”

“What? Dipper, shh, it’s okay.” He took the paper nonetheless, giving it a quick enough glance and his stomach rolled at the sight of Dipper’s blood staining it. “Okay, we’ll take care of this after we get you out of here.”

“B-but-” He had to figure out how they were getting out of there. Was the museum still open? Dipper wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been there, time distorted. Would they have to take the back exit? He closed his eyes against the dizziness. “We have to- The last line.”

“No buts, Dipper. We’re leaving first, then we’re reading this,” Wirt told him, firm in his decision. He managed to get him propped up enough that he could shift so Dipper’s chest was pressed to his back. “Hold onto me, okay?”

He didn’t understand. It could be on the way now, and there were so many people to take care of and... Dipper wrapped his arms around Wirt, holding as tight as he could. His sister ran up and he gasped quietly. Her lips was split and a dark, hand-shaped bruise was forming on her cheek. “M-m-m-”

“Shut up, Dipper. It’s okay.” She brushed a hand over his hair, tears welling in her eyes that were quickly blinked back. He looked so weak, so tired and hurting. “I think I knocked him out. Let’s go. There’s a first aid kit in the cart. Come on. We need to go out the back.”

“Okay.” Wirt hiked Dipper up so he could have a better grip on him, then scanned the room for his brother. He swallowed thickly and quickly averted his eyes when his gaze fell upon the body of what had been Gideon’s accomplice. “Where’s Greg?”

“Over here.” He poked his head out from behind the curtain, still holding the memory gun. “Can I come out now?”

“No,” Dipper wheezed.

Mabel shook her head, running over to him to sweep him up and hold tight. “Come on, baby. Let's go.”

Greg latched onto her, his arms going around her shoulders as he watched Wirt follow with Dipper on his back. His eyes watered a little, and he couldn’t help noticing that his brother wasn’t wearing his sweater. That it was clutched in his hand and covered in blood. He shuddered a little and held onto Mabel tighter.

“Is Dipper okay? Is he gonna be okay?” he asked.

“You bet he is,” she soothed, rubbing his back. “Don’t worry about him, Greg. Dipper doesn’t let anything hold him down long, and Wirt’s got him, right? He’ll be a-okay.”

“Okay,” Greg murmured, watching his brother from over her shoulder. “Don’t drop him, Wirt.”

“I’m not going to drop him,” Wirt assured him, believing it wholeheartedly. “Which way to the back?”

It was a challenge going back up the stairs, but they focused on one step at a time, Mabel leading the way with Greg still in her arms.  Once out of the eyeball room, they turned a different way down the hall, into an Employees Only section and slipped out the back door unnoticed. Which was really for the best since three out of the four of them were covered in blood. They hurried around to the front, back to the golf cart, and Wirt lowered Dipper into the backseat, Mabel helping to keep him propped up while Greg fished around for the first aid kit.

“Found it!” he held it up high with one hand.

“Okay, Greg, you help Mabel with her injuries and I’ll help Dipper,” Wirt told him when he handed it over.

“Aye aye, Captain Wirt.”

Her injuries weren’t nearly as bad as her brother’s. His eyes were still glassy, and she’d seen the way his hair was matted against his head. But Mabel nodded, understanding that it was more to keep Greg occupied. “Okay. I’ll start driving back to the Shack. We can-”

“Can’t,” Dipper protested. “Can’t. We- We can’t.” The daylight hadn’t helped his vision problems, and he was honestly surprised to see that the sun was still high above them.

“Okay, but we can’t stay in the parking lot.” Mabel settled Greg in the passenger seat. “I’ll go slow,” she told Wirt. “Just... do what you can until we stop.”

“Okay.” Wirt nodded, already focused on tending to the wounds.

In the light, he could see just how wet his hair was with his own blood. He would probably need stitches, professional medical attention at the very least once they had a minute to spare. Wirt felt the color drain from his face as he looked away to find some of the supplies he needed. Gauze, an instant ice pack…

“Can you swallow pills dry?” Wirt asked, finding a package of aspirin in the kit, keeping an eye on it while he set down the piece of paper Dipper had given him in the first aid kit. He grabbed one of the gauze pads and held it to the back of Dipper’s head in an attempt to gauge how big the injury was. It seemed to be enough to cover it. “You should take something for the pain.”

“Y-yeah.” Dipper took the offered pills with trembling hands and downed them, eyes closing against the brightness of the sun and his spotty vision. “So, you... you got it? The v-video. Knew y-you would.”

“Yeah, should’ve remembered that you were recording earlier. We would’ve gotten here faster,” he replied, more concentrated on what he was doing than saying. “Hold the gauze there for a minute? Yeah, like that.” He ripped open a package for a disinfectant wipe, then went to lift his bangs. “Greg, whatever you do, don’t turn around. I’m serious. I will find ways for Mom and Jonathan to ground you if you do,” he told him as a precaution. “Captain’s orders.”

He was pleased to find that Greg listened, then focused on cleaning the blood from the cuts to his birthmark. They were deep. They would scar. Wirt tried not to let his eyes water as that thought crept along the back of his neck. He picked up another square of gauze and pressed it over the cut, then used the roll of it to wrap around Dipper’s head to keep both paddings in place.

It stung, and it was hard not to pull away. All he could hear was Gideon cackling in his head as the blade cut deep, and his chest tightened as his tears spilled over. “H-h-he saw it, and... Wirt,” he whimpered.

“I know, Dipper. I know, I’m sorry.” He cut away some tape to secure the bandage, then pressed his lips to his uninjured cheek. “I’m so sorry.” He cracked the ice pack, then held it up to the one that was swelling, from being slapped or punched or some other manner of abuse that had Wirt shaking at the mere idea of it.

Mabel parked near the junkyard, knowing where people tended to wander and where they didn’t in this town. Dipper opened his eyes, gazed out at the forest with trepidation, and weakly shook his aching head. “It’s... I... Wirt,” he repeated, curling a hand into his shirt.

“What is it? What do you need, Dipper?” he asked, rubbing his back gently to soothe him. “Does something else hurt? What can I do?”

“I c-can’t... I just-” He shook his head. Everything may have hurt, but he couldn’t admit to it. He didn’t want to admit that he was having trouble focusing both his vision and his thoughts. “J-just hold on a minute. I- You’re safe, a-and I need you to- I just- I n-need you. O-okay?”

“Dipper…” His voice broke, the tears he’d been trying to hold back glazing his eyes as he dropped the ice pack to wrap his arms around him and just hold him, tucking him in close. Even when he was the one who was captured, tortured, and in pain, he was worrying about everyone else’s safety first. “Okay. Okay, I’m here. You have me. You’re safe, too. I promise.”

Dipper held as tightly as his weakened limbs would allow, burying his face against Wirt’s shoulder. He took his minute, every second of it, and made his battered brain function. He couldn’t fall apart yet. If he was going to stay safe - more importantly, if Wirt, Greg, and Mabel were to stay safe - he had to stay together, and he would.

He swallowed hard. He had to.

“Do you still have the page I gave you?” he murmured, staying close.

“Yeah, I do.” Wirt tilted his head a little, glancing at the blood spattered paper staring at him from the first aid kit. “We’ll take care of whatever it is after we take care of you, okay?”

“It’s the spell to get rid of Splinter Man. And he’s coming if we don’t stop him.” His grip tightened just a hair as he whispered, “Don’t tell Mabel, but... I can’t read it, okay? Everytime I try, my eyes just... I just get dizzy.”

“ _What_?” Wirt hissed, keeping his voice low to avoid attracting either of their siblings’ attentions. “Dipper, that’s not okay! We’ll stop Splinter Man, but we should really get you to a hospital first!”

“I can't. I mean, I will, but I can't yet.” From the woods came a howl, and the blood Dipper had sworn an oath on thrummed in his veins. “Don't tell her, please, and don't... Don't make me regret trusting you. Help me save us.”

Wirt leaned back and stared at him, half of him ready to take the wheel from Mabel and do whatever he had to to protect Dipper, but then again... The howl didn't escape his notice either and his fingers clenched in Dipper's shirt. Stopping Splinter Man would also protect him. It would protect everyone. They had to do it.

“Okay,” he breathed, letting go of him and looking away to take the page. The sight of his blood still made him sick, but he pressed his lips together tightly in an attempt to push back the feeling.

It was a spell alright, but it wasn't complete. The end was too abrupt, from a poetic standpoint at least. “Where's the rest of it?” he asked.

“How'd you know-?” Dipper offered a weak smile. He did really adore Wirt's brain. “Never mind. He was showing off. Gideon was. Taunting me, I guess.” He waved it away, not wanting to think about it. “He cut off the last line.”

“Wow. Okay, um… that’s…” That was really kind of important. “Do you think there’s another book or something somewhere that we can get the last line from?” He hated having to ask him questions like this when his head needed to be seriously checked out, but if they had to stop Splinter Man, then they needed a complete spell.

Dipper’s lips parted, trembling a little, so he pressed them together and averted his gaze as he wracked his shaking mind. “It was in Austrian. Hundred-plus year old Austrian. That’s why I struck out with the PDF files. I couldn’t even start to read that. Gideon must’ve gotten it translated.” He shoulders rose and fell, sagging a little. “This is what we have, man. We’ve just got to...” He tried, again, to look at the words on the page, but they jumbled and he tilted to the side as dizziness washed over him.

“Dipper!” Wirt caught him about the waist and shifted so that he could lean the brunt of his weight against him if he needed to. What was he talking about? Of course he needed to. He needed medical attention, something better than a couple of aspirin, an ice pack, two squares of gauze, and him. “Okay, okay, so we just have to figure out what the last line of the spell is and then we’re good to go. Alright, great.”

His eyes scanned the text on the page, the spell translating fairly well from Austrian to English, he noted. He muttered the verses under his breath quickly, slowing when he reached the final four lines. Well, final three. “‘Begone foul creature, your life now ends. By your demise, only, shall you make amends. Ignite thine body, purification through flame…’ I don’t…? It could be anything! I mean, only so many words rhyme with flame, but there are still at least five or six words in addition to that last one.” Wirt went to rake his fingers through his hair, only to bump into the bill of Dipper’s cap, still snug on his head.

Dipper kept his eyes closed, wary of his own natural curiosity tilting his head forward to try and read again. He listened quietly to the mutters, tucked in close. “It’s just a poem, Wirt. Just an unfinished poem. What would you put there?”

“I… I don’t know!” Before he had a chance to really think about it, piece together something coherent, he felt a tremor shudder through the golf cart. Then another. “Oh no.”

As the all-too familiar bellow pierced the air, Dipper opened his eyes. It was coming. It was coming, and they had to stop it. He jumped from the cart, immediately regretting it as he staggered, but he managed to keep on his feet. He looked back at Wirt, face pale but determined. “You can do this, okay? My poetic pilgrim. I trust you.”

His heart clenched, Wirt gaping at the complete faith in him. “But I…”

He’d never written a poem meant to be a spell before, at least not one outside of the games he and Greg would play. But this was way different. This was life or death, not just for them, but for an entire town! He took a shaky breath, glancing at the page then up at Dipper and then the page again, but something struck him suddenly and his eyes widened as he scrambled to get out of the cart as well.

“What are you doing? Dipper, get back in the cart!”

Mabel jerked around at that. “Dipper?”

“Mabel, you need to get closer to Splinter Man. Not under his feet, but closer. We’ve got to keep him on the edge of town.”

“But Dipper-”

“Just do it, Mabel!”

They stared at one another, equally mutinous, right down to the bruises on their respective cheeks. Mabel relented first, turning the key in the ignition. “Buckle up, baby,” she said to Greg.

Dipper turned back to Wirt, placing a hand on his chest to nudge him back. “Sit down, put the seatbelt on, and stick with Mabel.”

“Are you kidding? You’re hurt, you can hardly see straight, and you expect me to just leave you to what? Be bait for that thing? No, that’s not happening. You’re coming with us or I’m staying with you.” Wirt grabbed Dipper’s wrist, refusing to be pushed into the cart.

“I’m not going to be bait. McGucket’s right over there and his tools and inventions are there too. I’m using resources. I’d leave it for Mabel, but I can’t drive the cart right now. I’d ask you to do it, but I can’t read the spell. Greg’s _seven_ , and I’d bundle him back to Grunkle Stan so they can watch fights if there was time.

“There’s no time for that. There’s no time for _this_ , Wirt. Splinter Man has to stay in the woods, and we have to work with what we’ve got. Please trust me.” He moved forward since Wirt wouldn’t move back, lifting his head to press their lips together. “Please trust yourself, too. You’re smart. You’re talented.

“We’ll win, okay? We always win. Just please get in the cart and stay with Mabel.”

His points were valid. From a logical standpoint, it was the option that bought them the most time. And he was wasting it by putting up a fight.

But honestly, why did there have to be resources?

He released Dipper’s wrist only to grab a fistful of his vest to pull him in for a firmer kiss. It was brief, barely lasting longer than a second, but if anything went wrong then he did not want their last kiss to be something he wasn’t an active participant in. Something where he could show how much he mattered.

“Stay safe,” Wirt told him, voice breaking as he let go of him and stepped back. “ _Please_.”

“I will if you will.” Dipper took a step back as well, yearning to reach out to him again, but the tremors around them were growing. ”And the hat, you know. Not a bad look for you.” His grin flashed, quick and flirtatious as if their lives weren’t on the line, and then he turned and sprinted to the junkyard to convince Old Man McGucket to part with a few toys.

Mabel bit the corner of her lip. “Come on, Wirt.”

He nodded and sat down. Leaving the page in his lap, he pulled the seatbelt on with shaking hands. _Man made of wood, man made of bark, In this world, you prey upon the weakest mark,_ that was the first stanza. The first two lines. His fingers traced each line as Mabel put the cart in drive, but his mind could hardly hope to latch onto a single thing and make it his own.

“If I wanted to destroy a crazy wizard who turned himself into a tree man on his quest for immortality, what would I say? In Austrian,” he muttered to himself, jumping when another tremor shook the cart. “Dipper’s wrong. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can, Wirt!” Greg turned as much as he could, to look at him over the back of his seat.

Mabel nodded, speeding towards the source of the tremors. “You can do anything if you set your mind to it!”

“Yeah! And you can always think up poems. This is just a much shorter poem. It’s just one line.”

One line that would decide whether or not a monster would be destroyed or would destroy them. “Okay, um. Flame, flame, what rhymes with flame? Name, proclaim, same, tame,” he rattled off words off the top of his head, searching for something that fit.

“Game!” Greg suggested, then held up the memory gun. “Aim!”

“Maim, lame, shame.” Mabel let the laugh bubble out, her optimism bolstered by Greg’s enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, Wirt. A spell isn’t about the words. It’s more about the feeling behind them, so just say what feels right and we’ll-” She broke off, tires squealing as she skid around a stick that rooted itself in their path. “We’ll be fine!” she finished.

“Look out!” Greg pointed as another large branch hurtled through the air right for them.

They swerved out of the way, Wirt reaching over the seat to hold onto his brother with one hand as he clutched the paper tightly with the other. What felt right? He avoided each drop of blood as he skimmed the words again. The feeling behind the words. Punishment? Not welcome, Splinter Man wasn’t welcome here.

Mabel jerked the wheel hard, sending them spinning wildly until they slotted between two buildings on the very edge of town and out of Splinter Man’s line of sight. She blew out a slow breath, mildly surprised that they’d actually made it without crashing horrifically but still pleased by the result.

“I guess now we wait for Dipper and for you to come up with the last line, Wirt. Once that’s done, we should be-”

She broke off, watching a firework sail over. It went wide, but the monster was distracted by it. “Way to go, bro-bro!”

“Fire those cannons, Admiral Dipper!” Greg punched the air, then saluted the direction the firework had come from.

“Fire… flame… maybe burning? Maybe something to do with burning…” Wirt murmured, giving Greg’s shoulder a squeeze before letting go to adjust Dipper’s hat.

Mabel unbuckled her seatbelt to get a better look, twisting in her seat. Something far more rocket-like than firework blew in Splinter Man’s face, and she laughed breathlessly. “Burn up like bad toast because you’re really lame,” she suggested.

“That’s a good one!” Greg giggled, following her lead and unbuckling his seatbelt as well while Wirt just stared at her.

“Somehow I don’t think so.” He lifted up the page to gesture at it. “The line it goes with is ‘Ignite thine body, purification through flame.’ And while the rhyme’s there… I just- _ugh_. I can’t get in the writer’s head! I don’t know what he or she wanted to say.”

“Maybe it’s one of those rhyme’s that’s not a rhyme,” Greg offered.

“I don’t know. That wouldn’t fit with the rest of the words. Though this was translated. But that would just add even more possibilities to what I could possibly fit in here. Splinter Man needs to suffer for what he’s done, I get that, that’s a theme. That’s clear. So maybe shame? He should be ashamed...”

She climbed onto her knees, leaning over the seat and Wirt’s shoulder to look at the spell herself while a varied mix of rockets and fireworks kept Splinter Man distracted and at the edge of town, buying them time. “Yeah, that makes sense. He definitely did it all to himself, right? He shunned the light, destroyed the innocent, more things - just to be immortal. Maybe the author - or probably witch or wizard or something since it’s a spell - lost someone important and they blame Splinter Man for it? So they want him to be ashamed.”

Wirt blinked, his mouth falling open a little as he sounded out a word in his head, then met her gaze. “Wait, I think-”

“ _Ah_! It’s that guy!” Greg shouted, waving his arms frantically in case his voice didn’t capture their attention, then he was snatched right out of the cart.

“Greg!” Wirt dropped the page to tug at his seatbelt. “Put him down!”

Mabel moved faster, springing from the cart to give chase. “Read the poem!” she shouted over her shoulder, dodging the sticks Splinter Man threw in her path. “Read it now, Wirt!” She cried out when one tore through her sweater, coming perilously close to her skin.

Gideon laughed, holding Greg under one arm and the book under the other. “Kill them!” he raged. “I don’t care about this town! You just kill these fools right now!” he ordered and turned his gaze back on Mabel. “This all could’ve been avoided, darlin’, if you’d stayed true.”

“Shut up! Put him down!”

Free from the confines of the cart, Wirt grabbed the spell, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to follow Mabel. His instincts screamed at him to get to Greg, to not look away from the maniac that had tried to take him twice now and had brutally beaten Dipper in a basement, but seeing how close Splinter Man was to impaling Mabel, poisoning her, he forced his gaze to the page and prayed that by reading this thing, he could buy her time to save him.

“‘Man made of wood, man made of bark;  
“‘In this world, you prey upon the weakest mark.

“‘You have shunned the light;  
“‘Your soul made of the blackest night.’”

Wirt swallowed, trembling as he projected his voice towards the monster. He didn’t know the last line of the poem still. How was this going to work?

“‘Though by nature’s grace your power doth shine;  
“‘The devil’s embrace gives a poisonous vine.’”

Mabel’s heart raced wildly as she listened, as the monster grew increasingly furious between the recitation of the spell and the rockets Dipper kept hitting it with, and tried desperately to get through a veritable wall of wood that had formed between her and Greg. She screamed his name, losing precious seconds as she navigated around it. “Greg, get away from him! Fight him, baby! Come on!”

“If I could reach your face, I’d punch it!” Greg threatened Gideon, squirming in his grasp and smacking him in the side with his fist. If only he was a magical tiger and had magic extending claws, then he’d be able to reach his dumb face. Greg’s glower landed on the memory gun clutched in his other hand, eyes lighting up. Maybe he did have something that could hit him in the face after all.

“‘Innocence slaughtered by your brutality;  
“‘All in the name of false immortality,’” Wirt continued reading the spell, but he broke off with a startled shout as he narrowly avoided a sharp wooden spike driving into the ground where he stood.

“‘And yet your mortal enemy, always time;  
“‘Comes for you now, to punish your crime!’”

Greg’s brow furrowed with determination. Mabel and Wirt needed him to do his part. He checked the screen of the gun. “Gravity Falls” still illuminated, ready to go.

“Hey! Ugly show pony!”

Gideon slapped the book down, infuriated by the child’s words and squirming. “What?” he snapped. “I should-” His words stuttered to a halt when he saw the gun, and the second he had to react wasn’t enough.

“Ready! Aim!” Greg pulled the trigger.

The glass bulb lit up, a shock of bright light blinding Gideon while Greg turned his head away. When the glow faded, he was dropped almost instantly. Cradling the gun still, he scrambled to his feet and backed away from him, staring at him wide-eyed while the words of the spell continued.

“‘Hear these words, my banishment of thee;  
“‘For in your place only peace shall be.’”

“Mabel!” Greg called out, still watching the dazed Gideon warily.

She couldn’t respond, couldn’t think of words to respond with as she was grabbing him up, to hold him close. With an enraged, distraught noise, her fist reared back and plowed into Gideon’s stupid, bemused face.

Immediately, the world broke apart around them.

With Gideon unconscious, mind blank, the link between him and the beast had snapped. Mabel hugged Greg to her chest, looking towards Wirt. He had to read faster.

His gaze flicked between them and Splinter Man, carefully navigating through the debris in an attempt to get closer to them as he picked up the pace. He flinched when the monster screeched and he knew something crashed just behind him, but his eyes stuck to the page.

“‘You are not welcome here, this time or place;  
“‘You are removed now, from both earth and space!

“‘You are not welcomed, so-called Splinter Man;  
“‘These words end the life dark magicks began!’”

They were almost there. They were almost home free. But then Greg let out a little gasping noise and Mabel turned her head, eyes going wide. Splinter Man’s aim had improved greatly with Gideon’s lack of influence, and she could do nothing in that moment but uselessly shield Greg with her body.

Until an expected but very welcome voice rang out. “Mabel! Greg!”

Dipper tackled them both just in time, sending the three of them tumbling end over end. Stars exploding behind his eyes as his head met the asphalt, he let out a strangled noise. When his vision cleared enough for him to see, it was to be greeted with more danger.

The bike he’d been on, only barely recognizable as the one they’d left in the woods days before, stayed upright without a kickstand, and the rocket launcher he’d dropped to rescue their siblings was beside it. It was his only weapon, though, and he had to get to it. He rolled to get to his feet, made it to his knees but could go no further. He swayed dangerously, eyes glazing over.

“Wirt, finish it!” Mabel screamed, holding Greg to her chest and latching onto her twin to keep him from pitching forward. Splinter Man was taking aim for them again, and Dipper couldn’t move. And she couldn’t leave him.

“‘Begone, foul creature, your life now ends!  
“‘By your demise, only, shall you make amends!’”

Wirt was running to them now. His pulse rushing, drumming in his ears, because everything that mattered to him was right there. They were everything. He didn’t even have to look at the page for the last visible line, tossing it aside, mind whirring madly as he cried out:

“‘Ignite thine body, purification through flame!’  
“ _Shoulder your burden and accept your blame_!”

As the last word pierced the air, the beast ignited. Wirt stumbled the last few steps and dropped down beside them, one arm around Dipper and the other around Mabel to pull them in close. He squeezed his eyes shut against the intense flare of heat. Part man, part tree engulfed in flames and reduced to kindling as the enraged bellowing was silenced by the roar of the fire.

For a moment, there was a man in dark robes where the monster had been. He reached for them to curse them for their meddling, but time caught him quickly and he vanished, ash in the wind.

Just as the poem had said, peace reigned where he’d been.

Dipper had just enough time to register and accept that they’d done it. Wirt had done it. They were safe. They were all safe. When he swayed this time, it was against the poet and he succumbed to the unconscious world his body craved.

 

\----

 

Because they weren’t family, Wirt and Greg had to stay in the waiting room.

For a while, the other two members of the Pines family had been with them as well. Mabel held Greg on her lap for the first hour, then Wirt took over for the second, and after that the hours blurred into one another and the only way he could judge that time had passed was by the shifting colors of the afternoon sky as the sun sank lower and lower. Wirt’s spirits, it seemed, seemed to sink along with it.

They’d won the fight, but the relief had been short-lived when he found his arms full of an unconscious Dipper, slumping almost lifelessly into him. His throat was still raw from shouting - his name and the verses for the spell - and when he wasn’t holding Greg he could still feel the phantom sensation of bearing all of Dipper’s weight on his shoulders, across his lap. He couldn’t really remember how they got to the hospital, he only knew that they had.

Mabel, he was sure, had taken care of it. She was holding up, somehow. He both envied and admired her for it, and made sure to hold her hand when it was free, squeezing to let her know he was there, and to remind himself that she was there, too. It was reassuring and at the same time unsettling. It meant that this wasn’t a dream. Every hour that passed did its part in reminding him of that as well.

Stan Pines had shown up to take care of things, paperwork things, make up a reason for why his great-nephew had been wheeled in as battered as he was, with Soos and Wendy in tow. When they arrived, Wirt took over the duty of keeping an eye on Greg, feeling the immeasurable weight of guilt constricting his heart. He should’ve done more. He could’ve done more. He’d been a distraction all along, just as he’d suspected, and in saving his little brother’s life, Dipper had put his on the line yet again. There had to be some rule about how many times someone could bargain with their life, but even if there was, Wirt was sure Dipper had broken it and would continue to do so for as long as he felt it was right.

Wirt took off the cap, holding it in both hands as he ran his thumbs over the faded stitching. The pine tree stared back at him, and he could feel its accusations and disappointment. _Why couldn’t you have been better? Why can’t you take care of anyone that matters?_

“Family of… Dipper Pines?” All the heads of their group turned to face the nurse that addressed the room. “You can come back and see him now.”

But only blood relations. Wirt could see that visibly affected Soos and Wendy as well, and while his heart ached in sympathy for them, doubt settled over him like a dark cloud. When he woke up, would Dipper even want to see him?

 

\----

 

Dipper only wanted to see Wirt. Well, he wanted to see Greg and her too, but when it had been Wirt’s name first, she knew who he really wanted to see. Mabel ran down the hall, skidding into the waiting room. She’d left her twin with Grunkle Stan for the moment, leaving it for him to explain the story.

Falling down the stairs hadn’t been the most inclusive of excuses for his injuries, most notably the deep slices along his birthmark, so there was a chance of social workers being called. They hadn’t yet, though, and there had been some cautious agreement to discharge Dipper in the next few hours if he stayed as alert as he was.

“He’s awake!” she squealed, gripping the doorframe. “He’s awake! Wirt, Greg, come on! He’s awake!” Her gaze traveled to the other two waiting. “You two next, okay?”

“Dude,” Soos replied, brushing it off, “I’m just glad he’s up.”

Wendy socked Wirt’s shoulder. “Tell him we’re out here, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed while Greg hopped to his feet and darted to Mabel.

Despite the doubts, despite the fear and the guilt, worry for Dipper reigned over them all, and the need to see him was too strong to ignore. If Dipper didn’t want to see him, then he would deal with that after he saw with his own eyes that he was really, truly alright. Wirt followed close behind Mabel, fiddling with the cap in his hands as he watched Greg latch onto her hand and swing their arms back and forth, peppering her with questions.

“Is Dipper gonna have to stay the night like me and Wirt did? Can he come home sooner? If he has to stay, can we have our last sleepover here instead? Can we bring Waddles and Jason Funderburker to see him?”

She laughed, her first full, real laugh in hours. “No, yes, yes, we’re not supposed to, but will if necessary. They want to keep him another couple of hours for observation, but his CAT scan came back normal and he’s all stitched up. He sat up and wasn’t dizzy - at least he said he wasn’t, but we’ll see about that - so he’s okay. Really bad concussion, but he’s okay.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Greg puffed up his cheeks and blew out a big sigh of relief, then glanced back at his brother. “See, Wirt? Dipper’s okay! You don’t have to be sad and worried anymore.”

Wirt averted his gaze. “Yeah, that’s… that’s good- that’s great.”

Greg narrowed his. “Then why are you still sad _and_ worried?”

“I’m not, I just- I’ll feel better once I see for myself, Greg,” he replied, then forced a smile to appease his younger brother.

Mabel smiled, pushing the door to her brother’s room open without bothering to knock.

Dipper was laughing. “How long before it falls out?”

“I give it a fifty-fifty shot that you’ve got a window by the time we make it home.”

“At least he tried, I guess. That’s...” Dipper trailed off, then straightened, eyes lighting as they latched onto one single person. “ _Wirt_!”

His breath had been stolen by the sound of his laugh, then it all rushed back into him as soon as his name was spoken like it was the most important word he could ever utter. Wirt inhaled sharply, tears springing to his eyes. He looked normal. In the wrong setting and in the wrong clothes, but other than that, he was completely himself and Wirt didn’t want to lose him. Not to deranged child psychopaths, not to a tree monster, and certainly not because of himself.

“Dipper-” He had to close his mouth against anything else he wanted to say if he wanted to keep from crying, which would be stupid and dumb because he was right there and fine. Not to mention his uncle was still in the room and he probably already thought he was a nutjob from the past week and their siblings were there and his mind had kicked into overdrive again and needed to simmer down. Wirt took a small step into the room, then a few more clumsy ones when Greg started pushing him in.

Dipper laughed again. “Geez, Greg, impatient?” But he lifted a hand, reaching for Wirt anyway. “I’m okay with that. Come here, man.”

“Well we’ve been waiting to see you all day. I think I’ve been plenty patient,” Greg huffed, but stopped giving his brother his helpful shoves to let him decrease the distance between them himself.

Wirt’s gaze flickered from his eyes - clear and lovely and bright - to his hand. He shifted his grip on the hat to one hand and finished crossing the room, placing his palm in his, curling his fingers around it. “How are you-” he swallowed, searching his face again. “How are you feeling?”

Mentally, he was blocking out every single thing that had happened between getting taken away and Wirt nursing him on the back of the Mystery Cart. Physically? “I’m okay. Basically. Stitches and stuff, but I didn’t have to be awake for that.

“I’m sorry. I mean...” He rubbed the back of his neck, joy fading into nerves. “I never should’ve dragged you and Greg into all of this, and I’m just... I’m sorry.”

“What? No. No, you didn’t drag us into anything- you’re the one who ended up- and I didn’t figure out where you were fast enough and I didn’t finish the spell fast enough and I didn’t- and that’s all me, that’s not you.” Wirt squeezed his hand, having to settle for that when all he wanted was to squeeze him in a tight, all-encompassing embrace. “You didn’t drag me. I came willingly and I couldn’t keep up. I’m the one who should be apologizing. And I am, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dipper.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?!”

“That’s all wrong,” Mabel piped up, coming to the other side of his bed. She lifted Greg, settling him on the mattress, and sent Grunkle Stan a small wave since he was inching his way out the door. “Wirt, you’re the one who realized that Dipper had written in invisible ink. You’re the one who figured out his password.”

Dipper didn’t look over at her, but his eyes widened a little because he hadn’t known that. What he did know was, “You finished the spell. You kept up, man. You and Greg both kept up big time.” He wanted to drag him close and cling, but could only lift his other arm and reach out and hope to be accepted. “You’re amazing, Wirt.”

Even though he had more arguments - he couldn’t get Dipper’s broken, bleeding face out of his head, the wrecked sounds he made, the blood on the page, his deadweight - Wirt didn’t hesitate to accept the hug, accept Dipper. He couldn’t even question that. His arms wound around him as he bent over the bed, knees pressing into it, and he hid his face against his shoulder. He was fine. He was _fine_.

It hit him then that only a matter of hours ago they’d been clinging and kissing, then rushed through a rescue and banished a monster from this plane of existence in what now felt like a blur to him. They’d promised to make their long distance work, then maybe an hour later had to promise to stop Splinter Man no matter what. This had all been one day.

Tears slipped out unbidden, but Wirt couldn’t be bothered to try and hide them. Not if it meant letting go of him. “We were almost too late. _Twice_ ,” he sniffled.

“Do you know how many almosts and what-ifs there are? The exponents are crazy. You've got what you've got, man, and you've got me. You saved us, okay? You weren't too late.” His hand slid into Wirt's hair, tangling in the strands. “You made it right on time.”

In his mind, right on time would’ve spared him any and all injury. “Are you really okay? You’re not dizzy or- or hurting? Did they give you something for the pain?” he asked, pulling back only enough so he could look him in the eyes. “Do you need to talk about what happened? Any of it?”

Yes. Yes, he did. All he could see, if he didn't force his mind away, was a man clawing at his neck but unable to breathe. He needed to talk about it to someone. He needed to get it out there. His lips parted and, “No. I... Not yet? I can't yet. Can we just... Everything's okay. I'm okay. Can we just have that right now?”

Wirt’s chin quivered, but he nodded. “Yeah- yeah, of course. Whatever you want.” Conscious of his grip on the hat still, he unwound one arm from around him and hesitantly offered it to him. “Here, um… You dropped this.”

“Yeah. I was wondering when I was getting this back. I mean, I already gave you a shirt. What more could you want?” he joked. Securing the old cap neatly covered the bandages, and he sighed in relief. If not for their setting and the bruise still darkening his cheek, he looked and felt normal again.

A fidgety motion caught his eye, his attention going to the youngest member of their group. His gaze was flicking from him to Wirt, over his shoulder to Mabel, and back again. Dipper couldn’t help the laugh. Capturing Wirt’s hand because he couldn’t bear to let him go completely, he beckoned him over. “Come on, Greg. Your turn.”

He didn’t waste any time. Greg crawled right over to him and threw his arms around him. “I told you I was patient! I waited a long time to see you and say thank you,” he told him, rubbing his cheek against his chest. “So thank you. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Sorry you had to wait a long time,” he replied, resting his cheek on the boy’s hair. “I’m glad you’re okay. You are, right?”

“Yeah. I got to hit the bad guy right in the face! He didn’t think I could, but I showed him. He doesn’t get to hurt you or Mabel and get away with it.” Greg squeezed him a little tighter.

“Whoa, what?” Dipper blinked, gaze lifting to Wirt. “What?”

Mabel laughed, sitting on the edge of Dipper's bed. “Gideon grabbed him and Greg - he had the memory gun, and he used it on him. He erased Gravity Falls from his mind.”

Dipper leaned back, gaping at him before the laugh bubbled up and burst out. “That's just the best! Oh my god.”

“Well, I had to do my part.” Greg put his hands on his hips, looking from Dipper to Mabel proudly.

He glanced up when Wirt placed his hand on his head and ruffled his hair. “You did, Greg. You absolutely did your part.”

“We all did.” He smiled at him, then pointed to everyone. “You and me and General Mabel and Admiral Dipper!”

“Mystery Best Friends!” Mabel cheered, throwing her hands up. “We saved the day!”

“Oh yeah! That reminds me!” Greg tapped Dipper on the shoulder for his attention. “Have me and Wirt been promoted from junior detectives yet?”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged glances, shrugs, and gave identical grins. “Absolutely.”

Greg grinned, then turned solemnly to Wirt. “Our life’s mission has been complete, captain.”

“So it has,” Wirt played along, holding out a hand to help him down from the bed. “Come on, Greg. We better go so Soos and Wendy can have their turn. They’ve been waiting a while, too.”

Greg seemed to see the fairness in that. “Okay,” he replied, hopping down. “But can we come back after their turn?”

“If Dipper’s feeling up to it.” Wirt met his gaze, reluctant to leave but hesitant to presume he could stay.

They still only had hours left, and Dipper knew he’d wasted a solid chunk of them asleep. Their last full day together had been a severe roller coaster, emotionally and physically.

“I’ll always feel up to seeing you,” he promised, lips curving. “That’s a rock fact.”

Wirt smiled back, shoulders sagging with relief. “Okay. We’ll be back then,” he promised in return, then leaned down to brush their lips together for their first kiss since the insanity hours earlier.

Greg didn’t seem as convinced as Wirt though, as he was led out of the room moments later. “How do we know it’s a true rock fact?” he pestered his brother.

“It is.”

“But how do we _know_?”

“Because Dipper’s rock facts are just as true as mine, okay?”

“If you say so, brother o’ mine.” Greg accepted, but a second later he paused in the middle of the hallway. “Wirt? Do we really have to go home tomorrow?”

He stopped as well with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, Greg. We really do.”

“But I want to stay here. And so does Jason Funderburker. And so do you. Isn’t there anything we can do?” he asked. “We’re the Mystery Best Friends. We can do anything if we set our minds to it.”

Wirt glanced back the way they came, to Dipper’s room. “Not this time, Greg. We can’t do anything about this.”


	15. Chapter 15

The replacement window Soos had hastily installed in his room held, just barely, and Dipper only laughed when Mabel asked if she could touch it. “We’ll take care of it later.”

It would be a good project for the following afternoon, he mused, gazing out at the night sky. It would be something to keep his mind off of their absence. It was nearly midnight, now, and they had twelve hours left. Twelve hours, and they all needed to get some sleep. Though he’d slept most of the day, Dipper could feel exhaustion tugging at him.

His shoulders sagged. It wasn’t enough time. A week hadn’t been nearly enough time.

Dipper looked down when his hand was taken, slowly lifting his gaze to Wirt. He bumped their shoulders together, the contact meant to be brief, but he held there, pressing close. It wasn’t enough time.

“You should lie down.” Wirt squeezed his hand, holding his gaze with a soft smile. “You can’t deny that today was a crazy day, even if you can all the other ones this week.”

“I guess. I’ve been lying down for hours, though. I’m okay unless you’re tired.”

“Tired doesn’t even begin to describe it. I kinda just want to curl up in a ball and not move for a few days,” he chuckled. “But that can wait until I’m home. I don’t want to miss any of this. Being with you. But uh- but you were concussed, so if you need to rest some more, you totally should.”

He laughed a little, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Honestly, I’d like to go outside and start a fire and burn my clothes from earlier. Like... I’m never wearing them again. Those stains aren’t coming out.”

“I know what you mean. Like, I can’t pack that sweater. Can you imagine me trying to explain that to my mom?” His smile became a little strained. “Even though it’s… it’s not mine, I… I don’t think she’d be too willing to let Greg and I stay anywhere unsupervised if she found blood on my clothes.”

“Then let’s do it!” Mabel exclaimed, swinging Greg onto her shoulders. “I’m not ready to go to bed yet either. We can go get Jason Funderburker and Waddles. Greg and I have to check on them anyway.”

“Yeah! And they must be really worried about us,” Greg chimed in, though it was broken by a yawn.

Wirt arched an eyebrow, looking back at his brother fondly. “You sure you don’t want to go to bed? It’s okay if you do.”

“No. I want to burn things,” he replied, rubbing his eyes.

“Of course you do.”

Dipper snorted. “Okay, yeah, let’s go.”

“Woo!” Mabel spun on her heel, darting from the room to nab their pets.

“We can take the cart. He’ll probably fall asleep with Mabel anyway.”

“Yeah. I don’t doubt it.” Wirt went to fetch the bag their bloodied clothes had been stuffed into. “Wait, are you okay to drive? I know you said you’re fine, but again, you were _concussed_.”

“Were. Past-tense. I can read again, don’t have spotty vision anymore, no other symptoms except a headache, but I’m fine. You can drive if it’s- Wait, can you drive?”

“Um. Sort of. I mean, I obviously don’t have a license yet, or a permit, but I took driver’s ed already and Jonathan’s taken me to practice in parking lots and on back roads and stuff.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Though guess I wouldn’t exactly need one for a golf cart, huh…”

“Yeah. Even if you did, no one’s gonna pull us over in the woods.” Dipper grinned. “So you want to drive?”

Wirt pursed his lips, cheeks puffing out a bit uncertainly. “I guess… I should. Yes. I mean, nobody hit me in the head or face today, so it makes the most sense. If you guys trust me with driving the cart, that is. I get it if you don’t, though. Just, if your head hurts, you don’t have to force yourself if you don’t… if you don’t want to. And I’m going to stop talking now, this is getting away from me.”

In response, Dipper fished out a spare set of keys from his bag and returned, handing them over. Then he cupped Wirt’s cheeks and lifted to his toes. “Your face is too pretty to hit,” he murmured, and kissed him. It was the first chance he’d really had to do so, the first time they’d managed to be alone long enough, and Dipper needed the connection.

He made an embarrassed little sound that was muffled by the kiss, but he didn’t pull away. His arms wound about Dipper’s waist as he tilted his head to deepen it. His tongue flicked over his lower lip lightly when he broke it. “You can’t say things like that,” he replied, breathless.

“I can if I mean it.” His arms wound around his neck, fingers curling into the fresh sweater he’d donned. “And I do mean it. I like your face.”

“Well… I like yours, too. So it’s also too pretty to hit.” Wirt’s cheeks colored as he brushed his lips to his cheek. “And anyone who tries has to answer to Greg and that memory gun- which we’ll actually need to make sure he doesn’t try to sneak into his suitcase to take home with us. Because he’s definitely going to try.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s something even Mabel wouldn’t let him take, but we’ll keep an eye out.” His grip tightened a little at the reminder that they were leaving. There was so much, still, that he wanted to say and do. The month and a half of summer looming ahead seemed like a cruel joke.

But they could make it work. They could still talk and they would see one another when summer came around again. It would be fine. They’d be fine.

Wirt could read what he was feeling and it reflected in his own eyes, the same pain and hope. “Do I really have to go home tomorrow?” He echoed his brother’s earlier question with a weak smile, bumping his forehead to the bill of Dipper’s cap.

“Are we living in a fantasy world where it’s my choice? If that’s the case, you never have to go.”

“Alright, let’s do that then. Reality’s overrated.” He sealed their lips together again, like a promise.

It was overrated, but it was what they had. Dipper was willing to push it aside, though, pouring himself into the kiss with an eager little noise. He didn’t know when they would get another chance at this, so took the time to be thorough. He wanted everything imprinted on his mind, wanted to be able to play it all back in the coming months during the moments when he was sure to be missing Wirt most.

Wirt murmured his name, letting everything else melt away for the moment so they only had to focus on each other and how to find the best angle so they could be as close as possible and figure out what made the other shiver and gasp and there was still so much more to find out, but absolutely no time.

“Captain Wirt! Admiral Dipper! Pig and frog are secured! Let’s go!” Greg’s voice called up to them from the stairs.

Wirt made a soft noise of protest against his lips, then leaned back. “To be continued?” he breathed.

“First chance,” Dipper agreed, but was unable to help but kiss him again. A quick and light promise, “Let’s go start a fire.”

When the group piled into the golf cart this time, it lacked the stress and pressure of the day’s events that the last time smothered them with. Wirt drove carefully, both because he wasn’t familiar with the vehicle or the area, and Dipper called out directions from the passenger seat until they arrived a spot worthy of a bonfire. It had also been pretty hard to concentrate on driving with Dipper’s hand resting on his thigh, but that wasn’t a reason he was going to admit to in the hopes that he’d do it again on the drive back.

“Anchors away!” Greg called when they stopped, tossing the bag of clothes out onto the forest floor. “Please watch your step as you exit the vehicle.”

Mabel unbuckled her seatbelt and hopped off the back, gaze tilting skyward to smile at the stars. She was just as upset as her brother that this was their last night together, but she kept her smile bright and her laughter easy. It was simpler to focus on the fact that they would still be able to chat when they wanted to. They would see one another again as soon as they could.

Greg and Wirt were alive and had been the whole time, and they were going to stay that way.

“Come on, corporal! Let’s go find some rocks and kindling!”

“Oh boy! Just like when we had mushrooms in the cave!” he chirped, jumping out after her with Jason Funderburker in his arms.

“Stick with Mabel, Greg. Don’t wander off in the dark,” Wirt called after him, a bright laugh his only answer.

Mabel laughed as well, swinging Greg up and placing him right onto the pig’s back. Ever loyal, the pig waddled along as if he constantly had children on him.

Dipper’s hand finally left Wirt’s thigh to undo his own seatbelt. “You’re freaking adorable.”

“What? For telling Greg to do something he was probably going to do anyway because he adores Mabel?” Wirt attempted to play off, flustered by the blatant declaration while he fumbled with his seatbelt.

“No because turn signals. We’re driving through the friggin’ woods in a golf cart and you kept trying to find turn signals.” Laughing, Dipper scooted across the seat and cupped his chin to kiss him soundly. “Completely adorable.”

“Yeah, well… you were making it difficult to concentrate and I had to rely on the basics of driving,” he replied, tucking a stray curl behind Dipper’s ear and under his hat, then let his fingers trace the curve of his cheek.

Dipper tilted his head into the touch with a smile. “I was not. I was just giving you directions so you weren’t driving around forever. How’s that distracting?”

“Your… your hand… it was nice, that’s all,” he mumbled, glancing away as he admitted it.

“Okay. Good to know.” He had to laugh, letting it spill into their next kiss. His hand immediately fell back to his thigh, the other curling loosely over his heart.

Wirt made a small squeak of a noise before kissing back, cupping Dipper’s cheek as he slid closer. The palm of his other hand fluttered over his waist a bit, then settled firmly against his side. Touching, even the most casual of touches, would be a luxury they’d no longer have in a few hours. Each one mattered now.

“Your kisses are nice, too,” he murmured. “All of you is.”

“So are yours, and so are you.” He stayed closed another moment before leaning back. “Come on. Let’s scope out a good spot, so we can light this thing.”

“Sounds good.” Wirt cleared his throat, then eased out of the cart.

He could hear Greg and Mabel not too far off. Grabbing the bag of clothes his little brother had unceremoniously chucked out into the open, Wirt hefted it up and gave their surroundings a quick glance around. It was peaceful and calm in a way he hadn’t really considered it to be aside from that night with the nymphs. Splinter Man was gone, and his threat to the woods with it. Wirt sidled back to Dipper’s side, tangling their fingers together.

“So, aside from caves, what makes a good spot for a bonfire?”

“No trees immediately overhead is the main thing. Actually, any place a good distance from trees at all is good.” Dipper tipped his head back, gazing at the stars as his twin had. “Pretty much everywhere here works, and we’ve been here enough times that we’ve had fires out here before. So it won’t be hard to find one of those old pits.”

Wirt’s smile was nothing but fondness as he watched him, content to see the shimmer of starlight in his eyes. “Only a reflection in your gaze could ever hope to outweigh the brilliance of the thing itself.” After the words left his lips, his brow furrowed a little. “Huh. That one wasn’t very good. Your eyes deserve better than that.”

His gaze flicked to Wirt, then quickly away as color filled his face. He tugged at the bill of his hat, but he didn’t push it down to hide. “Will you text me your poetry? When you’re home, I mean. I don’t want to miss out.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to help myself. But you won’t just be getting texts. I already know I’ll probably mail you some like a beau pining for his love across a great sea. They’ll look better in handwriting anyway.”

“Your parents are gonna wonder why the stamp part of their budget wasn’t through the roof before,” he pointed out, grinning. “I’ll give you the address for our house back in Piedmont and the one here. And I need yours, too.”

“Yeah, of course.” Wirt smiled back, then shrugged. “And they think it was all email correspondence, you know, through the schools or whatever. They would’ve noticed that mail never came for me from Piedmont.”

“It will now,” Dipper promised, though he had no idea what he’d mail. He stopped as they came up to a small plot, rocks already forming the circle they’d need and logs laid out for seating. “This should work. Just got to clear off any old remnants of flame.”

Wirt nodded, setting down the bag before stooping down to help Dipper clear the area. “‘Ignite thine body, purification through flame,’” he mumbled absently under his breath, the word striking a chord in his memory where the spell still sat.

“‘Shoulder your burden and accept your blame,’” Dipper finished. He let out a small laugh, glancing at him. “It was a good line. I was going to tell you then, but... you know.”

Wirt shook his head with a snort. “I can’t believe that was even right. It was just the first thing that popped into my head and spilled out. Honestly, I’m pretty sure fate was taking pity on me or something and was like, ‘let’s just give it to him, it’s close enough.’”

“Nah. It’s not the words that really matter. It’s the feelings behind them. You just have a lot behind your words.” He sat back, the pit cleared of debris and ready to have fresh kindling in its place. “The way the words work together is important for ensuring the strength and such, yeah, but it’s really about the feeling.”

“I know.” Wirt leaned into him, their shoulders pressed together. “In my own poetry, it’s always about the feeling and when I’m reading poetry I can usually pick up on the emotions behind the words, guiding their choices, the rhyme or rhythm or punctuation, but with this… I dunno. I guess I channelled my own feelings into it when I couldn’t figure out the spellcaster’s intentions.” He shrugged a little. “Maybe that was the point.”

“I love the way you think.” _I love you_. Dipper slid down enough to rest his head against Wirt’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Poetic pilgrim, saving us all. This is the second time you’ve saved my life, you know. I feel like a slacker.”

“Want me to find you a way to return the favor?” He pressed his smile into Dipper’s cap. “No, you have. You know you have. Maybe the calls weren’t as close, but… you gave me hope. For a way out. I don’t know if I would’ve made it if you and Mabel hadn’t gone first. I would’ve tried, but I don’t know that I would’ve believed it.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.” Dipper caught his hand, lifting the back of it to his lips.

Wirt’s heart swelled, the tenderness warming him and making his pulse thrum happily. “Yeah? Well, I’m trying to help you not feel like a slacker. You can take that, or like I said, I can find a way for you to return the favor,” he teased, nuzzling him.

Chuckling, Dipper stroked his side. “No, way. If you’ve got to go all the way to Massachusetts, at least stay safe there.”

“I’ll do my best, admiral.” Wirt turned his head, his hand going to the back of Dipper’s neck as he angled them for a kiss. “I’ll save my dangerous, life-threatening, paranormal encounters for next summer.”

“You’d better,” he mumbled, reaching up to grasp his sweater as he kissed back.

“I will,” he assured him, smiling against his lips. “Really, what’s gonna get me in Lakeville? I’ve already been in the lake, so I know there are no lake monsters hiding in there. No giant teeth being left behind on the shore.”

“If you see one, you know how to reach me. I’ll fly out to take care of it; I don’t care.” But he was tired of talking through the kiss, so lapped at his tongue to distract from any verbal response.

It certainly did the trick. The only response Wirt gave was a happy little gasp as he deepened the kiss, parting his lips for him, letting Dipper take whatever he needed from it. His fingers curled in his hair by the nape of his neck, content to just kiss him all night, experiencing the rush of pure devotion pulsing through him, and would’ve tried.

But their siblings were returning, their voices growing closer as they sang the bicycle song despite not being on bikes.

“Oh my god. Why did we bring them?” Dipper muttered, breaking the kiss. “Petition to leave them behind.”

“I’ll sign it,” he agreed, but then Greg was calling for him, mostly excited, but he still picked up on the concern. “Over here, Greg!” Wirt called back with a sigh, tugging the bill of Dipper’s hat down. “To be continued. Again.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, good!” Mabel cheered as they drew closer. “I was hoping there’d be one already lined out for us. Did you remember matches?”

Her twin blinked at her, and she laughed. “I didn’t think so. Greg found stones. He’s an excellent detective.”

“They’re smooth, too!” Greg ran up to him to show him. “Just like you said last time!”

Dipper took them, pushing his hat back so he could grin at him. “Perfect.”

Mabel smiled, dumping most of her pile within the ring of stones. The rest was set nearby and she gestured for Greg to do the same. It only took two quick cracks of the rock, Dipper far more proficient at lighting fires this way than he had been at thirteen, and they had a fire blazing in minutes.

Mabel sank down onto one of the logs, holding Greg in her lap. “Dipper, I think this is the second - wait, third busiest day ever.”

He ran through a mental list, then nodded to himself. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

“What were second and first?” Wirt asked curiously, opening the bag with their clothes and holding it out for Dipper.

“The day we found out who the author was of the original three journals and the day we re-banished a demon.” He shrugged, removing his shirt and jeans from the bag. He grimaced. “Today’s definitely a solid third.”

“Good to know not every adventure you guys go on ends like this,” Wirt mused, taking out his sweater next. If he hadn’t known it was yellow before today, there was no way he could tell now. “Though someday I think I might want to hear the stories behind those first two, if you’re ever up for it.”

“Yeah! Is banishing a demon like banishing a ghost?” Greg asked, tilting his head back to look at Mabel.

She shivered. “I’d rather deal with a ghost.”

“Any day,” Dipper agreed and threw his balled up shirt to the flame. “But, yeah, I’ll tell you sometime. Just... You know, neither of them involve my smartest moves.”

“Bipper.”

“Shut up,” he returned mildly, making her laugh. “Look, in the unlikely event that you ever run across a demon, don’t make a deal with it. And that’s all I’m saying about it right now.”

Wirt’s lips quirked up in a half-smile. “Okay. Fair enough.”

“The Beast tried to make deals with us once,” Greg added. “But he was no match for us!”

“Yeah. We outsmarted him alright.” Wirt took one last glance at the bloodied sweater, then tossed it into the fire. The white shirt he’d been wearing under it followed close behind. Even if there wasn’t as much blood on it, there was little chance he could get it out.

Dipper wrapped an arm around Wirt’s waist, leaning against him. More kindling was thrown in by Mabel, the flames needing more fuel to burn away the cloth. They exchanged looks and smiles.

“I’m not surprised at all. Not after a week watching your mind work.”

Wirt gave him a light nudge. “You and your fascination with my mind.”

“Oh! Oh, Wirt! We should tell them about the time _you_ banished a spirit! Remember? With the bell! That was a good plan, too!” Greg waved his arms in the air, grinning at Mabel. “It’s a really good story. It happened after you left.”

“I- I dunno, Greg. It’s late and you guys probably don’t want to hear about that. I mean, you deal with this stuff enough.”

“Me and my fascination with all of you, not just your mind, wants to hear it.”

Mabel nodded, scratching Waddles behind the ear when he sat by her feet. “Come on, Wirt, tell us!”

“Oh, um… okay.” Wirt fidgeted, clearing his throat to get a good storytelling timbre. “So, it was after we left Beatrice and found out Adelaide was not the so-called ‘Good Woman of the Woods’ that we thought she was. There was a distinct shift in the weather. After walking all night, as dark and dreary as our dwindling spirits, the day greeted us with much of the same. When it began to rain, we considered finding shelter, and then The Woodsman showed up.”

“He almost crushed Wirt underneath a tree! I thought it was me and my powers, but it was just a guy with an axe,” Greg added, then quieted so Wirt could finish telling the story.

He detailed their escape because they’d thought he was The Beast at the time, with one more interruption from his little brother explaining that he’d given him the old kickeroo, which brought them to the old, broken-down house - that Greg had told Wirt he didn’t want to go into. “Are you sure _you_ don’t want to tell this story?” Wirt asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you’re doing a good job,” Greg assured him. “Tell them about Lorna! And the people eater spirit!”

He did, proud of himself for only blushing a little bit as they’d planned their escape from her aunt who wasn’t really her aunt and a suspected monster that gobbled up the bodies of children and teenagers and left only their bones for the girl to sort. Only to find that wasn’t the case. He could still vividly remember locking the closet door, brain scrambling to figure out what to do next when he turned to find Lorna was not exactly Lorna anymore. Everything from The Unknown was vivid in a way his normal memories from everyday life were not. Though, he hoped this week - as terrifying as their final day had been - remained just as clear. Glancing at Dipper as he finished the story - shaking their frog with the bell in his stomach to banish the spirit it controlled - he smiled a little and had a feeling that it would. After all, Dipper wasn’t an everyday life sort of guy, and these had definitely not been everyday life days.

“But yeah, that was it. She stayed with Auntie Whispers and Greg and I moved on. Jason Funderburker kept the bell in his stomach for a little while after we returned, but then one day it stopped glowing and ringing and we figured the magic must’ve just faded.” Wirt shrugged.

“He’s still a lucky, musical frog though,” Greg sighed happily as he hugged Jason Funderburker. “Even if he can’t sing or ring like a bell anymore.”

Mabel laughed, sweeping them both into her lap for a loving squeeze. “Jason Funderburker is the world’s greatest lucky, musical frog.”

“Some magic fades when it’s no longer needed. Some magic stays, no matter what.” Dipper stretched out, resting his head in Wirt’s lap. He remembered Auntie Whispers from the journal pages, flipping through them wildly as they’d changed, and it bothered him that he could’ve been there. He could’ve spared them the entire thing, but then he realized that Wirt wouldn’t have a story to tell. He wouldn’t have faced and outsmarted a spirit.

And Dipper wouldn’t be able to grin up at him, all pride because this boy was his something-or-other. “Sounds like you were pretty awesome.”

“Mm… more like adequately awesome,” he hummed, tracing the pine tree stitching with his finger. “But thank you. I’m glad you were impressed.” Dipper’s smile had his own and his blush grow, and he had to glance away to keep from looking completely lovestruck.

“Man, you jumped out a window and used your resources in a pinch. You cured possession, which, you know, is basically the hardest thing to deal with ever. You’re way more than adequately awesome.” He shifted closer, slinging an arm around Wirt and pressing his cheek to his stomach. “Deal with it.”

He laughed and tried his best not to squirm away, his arm draping across Dipper’s back. “Okay. Okay, I’ll deal with it. Pushy.”

“I’ve decided to try and make you aware of the fact that you’re as amazing as I think you are. It could backfire miserably since, y’know, you can do a ton better than an idiot who actively seeks out monsters and stuff, but it’ll probably be worth it.”

Wirt met his gaze again, brow arched and otherwise appearing decidedly unimpressed. “Now who can’t deal with the fact that they’re pretty awesome?” He poked him in the stomach. “And if I’m so amazing as you say, then clearly I have amazing taste in amazing people.”

He couldn’t help the little gasp, stomach muscles jumping as he pressed away from the poke. “I’m not- Okay, fine, we can both be amazing.”

Wirt blinked at him. “What was that?”

“What was what? Nothing.” He drew his knees up, angling towards him to hide his stomach as much as possible.

“Are you-?” Wirt pressed his lips together against a smile, Dipper obviously wanting to keep this to himself. “Alright. It was nothing,” he accepted for the time being, though purposefully laid his palm flat on his side, as close to his stomach as he could given the position.

Dipper’s face turned to press fully into Wirt’s abdomen, voice muffled in his sweater. “Oh my god.”

“If you ever want to know all his tickle spots, I have them all on hand,” Mabel offered, grin absolutely devilish.

“Oh my god,” Dipper repeated.

“I might take you up on that.” Wirt laughed again, rubbing his side in an attempt to soothe him. “Come on, I’m not going to poke you again. It’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“Only a little.”

“ _So_ ticklish.”

“Shut up, Mabel!”

“What’s wrong with being ticklish?” Greg asked. “Wirt is, too. Sometimes.”

“Only if you catch me by surprise,” he amended.

Greg lifted his chin proudly. “Which I always do.”

“So about that petition to just leave them here,” Dipper muttered, lifting his gaze and revealing the mortified blush he’d been hiding.

Wirt’s smile was completely adoring as he bent down to kiss him lightly. “We’re not leaving them stranded in the woods just because you’re ticklish. If I went home without Greg, I’d be grounded and then I’d probably never get to talk to you or visit you again.”

“Hey!” 

“And I’d miss him, of course.” Wirt rolled his eyes, but Greg was appeased nonetheless.

“Greg and I are expert adventurers,” Mabel reminded them, grinning because they were adorable and affectionate. “We’d be able to find our way out even if you tried.”

Dipper rolled his eyes and sat up. Enjoying the proximity, though, he settled himself squarely between his legs so his cheek could still rest on his chest. “Mabel, do you even know which direction to start walking back?”

She looked around, then shrugged. “One of them.”

“I have no idea how to get home!” Greg chirped, but he was satisfied with that.

Wirt looped his arms around Dipper, his chin propped up on top of his head. “Maybe we’ll leave them behind at home someday. I mean, we have only had one date so far, and I don’t know about you, but I’d kinda like to have more. You know, when we can.”

“Absolutely. You pick where we go next time?”

“Yeah. I have to somehow top yours, remember? Man, you set the bar high.”

He laughed, closing his eyes. “You don’t have to top me. You just have to think of something we can do together. I just... You know. I just want to be with you.”

“I just want to be with you, too.” But apparently even that was almost too much to ask. Wirt pressed his lips over the hat. “I’ll still think of something good though.” He’d certainly have enough time to think about it, after all. “Might not be nymphs, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Dipper nodded, lifting his gaze and straightening enough to capture his lips. “I trust you.”

His twin’s smile softened, heart breaking for them. She looked down at Greg and his frog, and an idea began to form in her mind. She would have to work out the details, which would likely require a concentration she didn’t tend to possess, but she could manage it. Maybe.

“What’s a good campfire song, baby? We should be celebrating!”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been camping,” he replied.

“I bet you can make something up, Greg,” Wirt told him, but he was looking at Dipper, his eyes and his lips, very much wanting to kiss him again. “You can do anything if you set your mind to it.”

Greg tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It should be about marshmallows,” he decided. “Next time we have a campfire, we should bring marshmallows to roast! Just like the mushrooms. Oh! Mushrooms and marshmallows, they taste like magic pillows, all around a campfire with Mystery Best Friends,” he started singing, making up a song off the top of his head as easily as poetry popped from Wirt’s.

When Mabel swept him up, making up a dance as he carried his tune, Dipper smiled. She was right. They should be celebrating. They couldn’t dwell on the time they had left. They just had to enjoy it. A hand lifted, fingers threading through Wirt’s hair. “I kind of wish I’d thought to bring my camera. I mean, I’m not going to forget how gorgeous you look right now with the fire playing in your eyes, but it’d be nice to have on film anyway.”

“What? No. Oh my gosh.” Wirt ducked his head as much as he could without losing Dipper’s hand in his hair and hid his eyes with his palm. His cheeks burned, to the tips of his ears, and he shook his head, butterflies going crazy in his stomach while his heart flip-flopped. “Is this what it feels like when I wax poetry about you? I’m sorry.”

He grinned widely. “Aw, man, that’s not fair. You can’t hide them. And don’t be sorry. I like all the crazy, weird things your poetry makes me feel.” He wiggled to get closer, though there wasn’t an inch separating them, and stroked his hair.

“I like this, too, it’s just… a lot?” Wirt hesitantly lowered his hand, but it still covered part of his face, his mouth, still flustered. “It’s a little hard to believe. And I know what you’re going to say, probably, but that’s… that’s just how I feel. Right now. You might… you might change that. Someday.”

“I’m at least stubborn enough to try. I care about you enough to try.”

Wirt looked at him for a beat, then moved his hand to stroke Dipper’s cheek before sealing their lips together for a slow, meaningful kiss that’s only purpose was to feel and understand and savor. “I care about you enough to let you. Just keep in mind I can be stubborn, too. Don’t hold it against me too much,” he murmured, lips quirking up.

“I’ve noticed. You’ve got a lot bubbling under all that shy sweetness. I’ve found some of it, but I’m a little greedy and a lot curious.” He wanted to know everything that made him tick, but he could be patient when it mattered. And Wirt definitely mattered. He drew him into another kiss that ended abruptly because he kept forgetting to ask one simple, stupid question.

“Oh my god. _What_ is your last name?”

Wirt jumped a little, the abruptness startling at first, but then a simple, “Oh,” left him and suddenly he was laughing. Hard and uncontrollable in a way he didn’t usually let himself. “Oh, wow! I’m sorry, I never told you, huh?” he tried to speak through it, but he was still giggling helplessly, nose scrunched and smile bright as he worked to contain himself. “That’s- that’s kinda important. It’s- it’s Palmer. Greg’s is Whelan, since, you know, different dads, but oh my gosh. I can’t believe I never- this whole time-!”

“Yeah, this whole time.” Dipper tried to be at least a little annoyed, but he couldn’t manage it. The breathless laugh undid him. The nose scrunch took his heart all over again. The simple, obvious delight had him leaning back and retrieving his phone. He snapped a picture to use as his contact photo. And maybe his wallpaper. He glanced down at the picture, grinning at it. Yeah, he had a new wallpaper.

“So Palmer. Wirt Palmer.” He nodded, still smiling at him as he put his phone back in his pocket. “Okay. Good to know.”

He hiccupped, grinning as he wiped at his eyes. “Still like me just as much knowing my last name? Not a deal breaker?”

“Let me just try and wrap my head around this wild new information,” he joked. “Poetic, pilgrim, Palmer.” He grinned. “Pines. I may like you a little more, actually. Shocking.”

“Don’t forget paranormal expert,” Wirt laughed once more and kissed him. “Oh boy. It’s too bad we don’t go to the same school. Alphabetical seating charts and all. It’d be easy to pass you poems in class.”

“Our grades would suffer big time, but it’d be totally worth it.”

“We’ll just have to make do with the ones I mail you.” Wirt traced his cheek and his lips with his fingertips, his smile decidedly his favorite thing in the world about Dipper Pines. “Is it weird that I miss you already and you’re still right here?”

“If it is, we’re both weird,” he replied, reaching up to catch Wirt’s wrist and kiss his fingertips. “So I wouldn’t rule that out.”

His heart fluttered, skipping a beat as he watched him, entranced by the affection and the way the firelight played off his skin and shone in stray curls of his hair. He’d commit it all to memory, so that when he closed his eyes it would be this that he would see instead of the terrors of the day. He’d rather long for him than fear for him, though he knew the latter would happen anyway. It would be impossible not to worry about him after all this, but it was also possible to believe in him. If he could handle a day like today and still come out of it with laughter in his eyes and a smile on his lips, then there probably wasn’t much that he couldn’t. Even this impending separation.

“It’s not the end. It’s still just the beginning,” he mused, more for himself than anything, then he smiled. “I mean, you did just learn my last name and I your biggest weakness. Think of all the other things in between we still have to find out. There’ll be too many new things for us to spend too much time missing each other.” He hoped.

Dipper laughed and drew him into another kiss. He could get behind that sort of optimism, and wanted some of it for himself. Their foundation was a brief one, but stronger than most could claim. He could cling to that in the coming months, he was sure, and when summer rolled around again, he could cling to Wirt. And he would. The distance couldn’t possibly be that much of a hindrance for two very stubborn boys. They wouldn’t let it be.

 

\----

 

“Greg? Greg!” One of the most insufferable things about being a big brother was having to be the responsible one and make sure that the little brother actually packed his suitcase like he said he would instead of getting to do some last minute cuddling with his boyfriend before their parents showed up, Wirt reflected as he stepped outside.

He’d disappeared from Mabel’s room once he’d been half-packed. It wasn’t really that much of a surprise. Greg firmly believed that if he didn’t actually pack to go home, then he wouldn’t have to and all would be right with the world. It was a nice thought, but he knew they had a short deadline to meet in order to make their flight back home and it would be easier if everything was all ready to go so they could focus on-

Focus on the goodbyes.

Wirt sighed, crossing his arms as he glanced around their immediate surroundings. “If you were kidnapped by gnomes, so help me…” he muttered, but then he heard Greg’s cheerful voice around the side of the Mystery Shack. “Greg!”

“Yeah, of course you can come with us!” Greg was saying as Wirt got closer. “It’ll be fun! I think you’ll really like Massachusetts.”

“Greg, you can’t just invite people back home with us-” Wirt cut himself off when he joined his brother and found him standing there alone. “Who were you talking to?” he asked.

“My new friend!” Greg replied, pointing in front of him.

Wirt lifted a brow and followed his gaze, snorting when his eyes fell upon a nervous squirrel skittering up into a tree. “Right. Okay. Well, tell your friend you have to come inside and finish packing like you promised and you’ll talk to them later.”

“What if I come inside and don’t pack?” Greg bargained.

Wirt pretended to consider this, then grabbed him, hauling him into the air upside-down and carrying him back to the door himself. “Then I do this and pack you in your suitcase instead of your things. Think about it, Greg, you’ll finally get to ride on the baggage carousel like you’ve always wanted.”

“You wouldn’t!” Greg gasped, but he was laughing and kicking as well.

“Watch me,” he replied, climbing the steps to the porch just as the sound of a car on the dirt road reached his ears. “Okay, enough games. Seriously, go put the rest of your stuff away or we’re leaving it and I give Mr. Pines permission to sell it.”

“Will I get some of the money?” Greg asked as he was set down rightside-up.

“No.”

He sighed, heavy for a seven-year-old, then turned to trudge up the stairs. “Ain’t that just the way?”

“There you are!” Mabel chirped, giving Wirt a wave as she nabbed Greg’s hand to lead the way back to her room. “Come on, corporal, we have a mission to complete!”

“But I don’t want to, Mabel!” he protested, following her nonetheless.

“I know.” She scooped him up instead, rubbing his back as she carried him down the hall. “Sometimes it’s not easy to follow orders, but we’ve got to. We had adventures, didn’t we? Just like I promised we would. We’ll just have to have more when we see each other again.” She pressed a kiss to his temple, sinking onto the corner of her bed to cradle him in her lap.

“Is it gonna be as long as last time?” Greg snuggled against her.

“Some of both. It’ll be a little longer of a wait for you, but it won’t be nearly as long for me. Besides, we’ll be able to talk this time so the wait won’t be nearly as bad. You can call me every single day and tell me how you are if you want to. Okay?”

He tilted his head back to look up at her, lips twisting in thought. “Is that a rock fact? One of the true ones?”

“Absolutely! I’ll even tell Wirt so he can’t say you’re bothering me.” She poked his cheeks, smile bright.

Greg giggled, then poked her cheeks back. “Okay. Sounds like a plan, general.” He heard a car door slam outside, then gasped, throwing his arms around Mabel. “Oh no! The cavalry!”

She gave him a squeeze. “Never fear, corporal. I’ve got a plan! You go distract them, and I’ll finish your packing. No one will ever know you weren’t done when they arrived.”

“Yes, sir, General Mabel!” He saluted her, then gave her a kiss on the cheek before sliding off her lap. “Come on, Jason Funderburker! Let’s go say hi to Mom and Dad!” Greg scooped up the lucky frog and carried him out of the room over his head.

Mabel laughed softly, ignoring the heartache as she began to quickly fold his clothes and compile them neatly into his little suitcase. His tea kettle was settled right on top, and it still managed to make her laugh that he’d thought to bring it along. She was still smiling over it when she snuck in a few essentials.

A flash drive shaped like a frog was full of photographs - both the ones from their time together in The Unknown and from the past week they’d spent together. It would likely embarrass Wirt just how often she’d snapped a picture of him and her brother, including one taken just the night before. She wished she could see his face when he saw them, kissing in front of a campfire.

His ears would probably turn red.

The second thing she smuggled into the bag was a far older item. It had seen some wear and tear over the years, but the hook was still solid and the rope still strong. She’d already written a note for it, so tucked it alongside everything else before closing the top and zipping the suitcase up tight.

After a quick check to be sure that the concealer she’d applied to the bruise on her face was still doing its job, Mabel set the case on the floor, grasping the handle so she could wheel it down the hall. “Come on, Waddles. Time to say goodbye.”

 

\----

 

Dipper wasn’t ready to say goodbye. His hat hid the worst of his injuries, his bruise explained away with an, “I don’t always look where I’m going.” It was true enough, if not applicable this time, and their parents were too wrapped up in seeing their boys again to really question him.

His gaze followed Wirt, heart beating rapidly as he struggled against the desire to grab him, drag him up to his room and not let him out until his family was on their way to the airport. He wasn’t ready to see him go.

Wirt looked over at him as he hugged his mom, a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes offered to him. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye either. “I’ll um… I’ll put my things in the car,” he piped up when he pulled out of the hug, but Jonathan gave his shoulder a squeeze and shook his head.

“I’ve got it, kiddo. You and Greg take care of your goodbyes,” he told him, taking the handle of his suitcase from him.

“Oh, um. Okay.”

Normally he’d protest, but with the seconds ticking away, he didn’t hesitate to spin around and walk straight to Dipper. He looked at him, opened his mouth to say something, but what could he possibly say in this moment to make it hurt any less? He pulled him in for a hug instead, wrapping his arms around him tightly because he wasn’t ready to say goodbye either and he wanted this to last.

Dipper spun the bill of his cap, not wanting it in the way as he buried his face into Wirt’s shoulder and clutched at him, fingers curling into his sweater. “Wirt, I...” _I love you_. He couldn’t say it now. He couldn’t put the burden on him just as he was leaving. And he couldn’t beg for him to stay, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Text me when you get the airport, okay? Text me when the plane lands so I know you made it home safe. Call me when you’re settled in and stuff, okay?”

Wirt nodded, breath hitching as he struggled not to cry. Their last moments together for who knew how long were not going to be filled with blubbering tears. “I will,” he promised. “I’ll text you the entire time I’m waiting for the plane and the drive home, too. And I’ll call, no matter how late it is for me. We’ve got a three-hour time difference to get used to, but I stay up late, so you can call me, too, whenever you want. I’ll be awake, probably.” His lips trembled as he sniffled, his voice soft as he spoke only for him. “I’m going to miss sleeping next to you.”

“So am I. You hog the blankets like nobody’s business, man,” he teased, hoping to cheer them both up some, “but so am I.”

A choked laugh escaped him and Wirt eased up on his grip a little. “Look at me. Stealing your blankets, stealing your hat, stealing your shirt. Which I’m wearing right now, by the way. You said I never would, but I am. Just because I wear sweaters doesn’t mean I don’t wear shirts under them, you’ve seen the collars.”

He laughed. He had to, and eased back to tug at the hem of Wirt’s music note sweater. “You _are_. That’s amazing.” A little movement out of the corner of his eye had him glancing over.

His twin immediately jumped. “Sorry. I’m not trying to interrupt. I just...”

Dipper wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be greedy and cling and take every single moment they had left for himself, but his sister was wearing the clarinet sweater again. She never wore the same sweater twice in a week. Not twice in a month if she could help it. He couldn’t be selfish and greedy, so took a step back and let Mabel in.

Her breath caught and she bounced up, grabbing Wirt up in an immediate hug. “I won’t take long. I just wanted to show you- I’ll miss you! I’ll miss you a lot, okay? You and Greg! You have to let him call me whenever he wants. I promised him he could call me anytime, and I mean it. He won’t bother me, He could never bother me! Neither of you could!”

She gave him the tightest squeeze she could manage, then released him and hit the button on her sweater. The music that poured from it was Wirt’s, and her eyes were drenched with tears when they lifted. “I finished it, and I wanted to show you before you left.”

Well, so much for not crying, he mused, a few tears slipping out as he dragged her in for another hug. “Thank you, it’s- it’s the best. You’re the best. And of course I’ll let him call you. You call us, too. If you ever want or need to talk to him, then just call. You couldn’t… I’m going to miss you, too. And you have no idea how much laundry I’m going to start doing just so I can wear the sweater you made me as often as possible.”

“Dipper!” Greg darted into the fray, squeezing past Mabel and Wirt to latch onto the boy’s waist. “We have to say goodbye, too,” his voice muffled as he hid his face against him.

Rather than scooping him up, Dipper knelt down to Greg’s level and pulled him in. “Like I’d let you leave without saying bye. We’ll see you as soon as we can, but you can call me whenever you want to. For anything, got it?”

“Even if it’s not about ghosts or werewolves or magic and it’s just ‘cause I want to say hi and that I miss you?”

“Greg, when school starts back up, you can even call about homework. Any reason, any time.” He withdrew enough to offer a fist bump. “Seriously.”

Greg considered that for a moment, then smiled and tapped his fist to Dipper’s. “Thanks, Dipper. I’ll try to make sure it’s mostly about fun stuff though.”

“Well, geez, man, I can’t say fun stuff first after mentioning homework. What if your brother gets mad at me?” His grin flashed before he tugged Greg into another hug. “Do me a favor, okay? Two favors.”

“Sure! Anything for the admiral!” Greg nodded, eager as he wrapped his arms around his neck.

“Okay.” He lowered his voice, the words just for Greg. “One) take care of Wirt. I know you will because you’re basically the best little brother to ever exist, but if he’s ever freaking out and won’t talk about it, make him call me. Or you call me and give him the phone. Can you do that?”

“Does a chicken have lips?” Greg scoffed, keeping his voice low as well. “Of course I’ll take care of Wirt! That’s my job anyway. But I promise. If it’s something I can’t handle or if he’s missing you and won’t say so, then I’ll call you. You’re really good for him. You make him calm and happy. What’s the second thing?”

“It’s a little harder to do far away, so you’ll have to be my eyes on the battlefield, corporal.” He drew back a little, laying his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Now two) never, ever let anyone tell you that you’re not awesome. You are a crazy, weird kid in the best of ways, got it? Keep asking questions about ghosts. Keep asking questions about everything, and you will absolutely be able to do everything you set your mind to. You’re amazing, and anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

Greg’s brow furrowed a little, his instinct to immediately agree to the task swept aside for the moment. He glanced back hesitantly, checking on Wirt and Mabel to make sure they weren’t listening in, then looked at Dipper once again. “Even if a lot of people say I’m not?” he asked, just above a whisper.

Dipper’s heart broke a little. “Kids used to bully me, too. It used to be really hard for me to make friends, too. But you’ve got me and Mabel on your side no matter what happens. You’ve got Wirt, too. So don’t listen to them, listen to us. We love you, and we know better than anyone else how great you are.”

Face lighting up, Greg just had to hug him again. “I love you, too. Thanks, Dipper. And you’ve always got me on your side, too, okay?”

“Understood.” Dipper hugged him back, not letting go as he stood because he just didn’t want to yet. He didn’t want to let either of them go. He reached out, grasping Wirt’s hand and lacing their fingers.

Wirt squeezed his hand, hurriedly wiping at his eyes to make sure all traces of tears were gone. He offered Dipper a smile, and it grew when he saw that Greg was in his arms still, but it also made his eyes water again. Why did they have to be so far away?

He brought his hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of Dipper’s. “I guess this is it for now.”

Mabel grabbed Wirt’s other hand, then hooked an arm around her twin to keep Greg snug between them, and made a circle. A very teary circle since hers hadn’t stopped and now Dipper’s eyes had gone wide and damp. He didn’t look away from Wirt, and she couldn’t blame him.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay. We know where each other are now. We know how to get in touch with each other. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah!” Greg piped up, trying to stay happy for the teens, but even he couldn't ignore the way sadness tugged on his heart. “We know we're in the same year now and everything!”

“That's right,” Wirt agreed with a teary laugh, squeezing both hands as he watched Dipper. The look in his eyes making his breath hitch. “We can do this. It'll be okay.”

Dipper couldn’t tug his hat down to hide his face, unable to release Greg or Wirt to free a hand. He bit his lip, desperately bottling his emotions to get himself under control. He couldn’t fall apart now. Later he could be an angsty little mess, but not while they were still there. “Y-yeah.” He had to clear his throat. “It’s fine. We’ll see each other as soon as possible. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Wirt’s smile broke and he pressed his lips to Dipper’s. “I know the way home this time,” he murmured, just for him, then brushed their lips together once more. “Bye, Dipper.”

His chest tightened as he relinquished Greg to his brother, swallowing hard because he just didn’t want them to go. “See you, Wirt.”

Wirt hugged Greg tightly, then let him lean over to give Mabel one last hug goodbye. They had to go. If they didn’t go now, Wirt would stay, they’d both stay, and he was struck with the irony of the urgency that propelled him outside. Their parents stood by the car, both looking up when they saw the boys and waved. Wirt nodded shakily, then turned around.

“‘Ah, when to the heart of man, was it ever less than a treason, to go with the drift of things, to yield with a grace to reason, and bow and accept the end, of a love or a season?’” he recited, setting his brother down to take his hand instead.

Parting on poetry may have been cheesy or overly sentimental, but he’d accepted that he was both, and the twins they were leaving behind in the woods - though not life or death - deserved all of him that he could offer. Him and Greg both.

“We’ll call you when we’re home!” Greg called, waving. “And that’s a rock fact!”

Because she didn’t want their last image of her to be of tears, Mabel laughed. “You’d better!”

Dipper leaned against the doorframe and gave a small wave. He couldn’t speak with his heart in his throat. He couldn’t move, even when Mabel backed away to sit on the floor and hug Waddles. He could only watch them leave, watch Wirt leave.

This was it. This was it for an entire year. He wouldn’t see him except through the screen of a computer or a texted image. He wouldn’t be this close to him for a year, and the weight of it threatened to crush him. But he couldn’t ask him to stay like he wanted. He couldn’t do anything but accept that he was going to get in that car and go all the way across the country.

But it couldn’t happen like this. Like Mabel, he didn’t want misery to be the last impression they left with.

Dipper straightened from the doorframe quickly just as Wirt was following Greg into the car. Gaze still locked onto Wirt, he lifted his voice to call out to him and ended up misjudging the distance of the porch steps. He took a header right off of them, yelped as he just barely managed to keep from breaking his own neck. He tumbled end over end, landing in an awkward heap on the grass. He muttered under his breath, sitting up and smacking his hands to his face because he was an idiot. And then hissed in pain since his fingers had collided with the bruise on his cheek because he was even more of an idiot.

“Oh my gosh! Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” In seconds Wirt was hovering over him, hands fluttering from Dipper’s shoulders to his arms frantically before actually stooping to help him, clasping his hand in his.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, really. I was just- I couldn’t let you-” His fingers flexed in Wirt’s, staring at him with a desperate sort of embarrassment. He took a deep breath, steeling himself against it. “Look, we both know that we’re both upset. I just, you know, I don’t want that to be... I don’t want that to be the last thing you remember with me. I want-”

Dipper’s hands slid up to cup his cheek instead, aiming to pull him into a kiss, but he hesitated. He’d gone through coming out with his family already, and it was too easy to remember the anxieties involved. He didn’t know if Wirt’s parents were watching - oh, god, had they seen him fall over like an idiot? - and he didn’t know how Wirt felt about them knowing that their relationship wasn’t strictly friends.

So he hesitated and left the choice in Wirt’s hands. “One more. That’s all I want. One more before you go.”

Wirt swallowed, his gaze going from Dipper’s lips to his eyes. His fingers curled around Dipper’s wrists, holding him there while a small smile lit his face. There was a choice, but it wasn’t whether or not he’d kiss him.

“Two. Two’s better,” he offered as if it were a compromise, then brushed their lips together, steadily deepening the first of their last kisses.

Beneath Wirt’s fingers, Dipper’s pulse fluttered and quickened. His eyes closed slowly, a sigh spilling into the kiss as Wirt lead the way. Two, yes. Two was much better. It let the first one soothe the ache the thought of separating created. It was still there, but it was easier to face with this promise to return.

“See you soon,” Wirt murmured instead of another goodbye, smiling as he started their second kiss, dropping his hold to Dipper’s waist.

Dipper’s hands left his face to slid around to his back. His fingers didn’t grip and cling, choosing instead to stroke and pet. Where the first kiss had been a balm, this one was all heart. He poured every bit of his love into it, every piece of his admiration.

At the end of it, he was grinning, letting their brows rest together. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Two’s better. What was I thinking?”

“Well, in your defense, I have killed your brain a couple times this week. Sorry about that.” He pulled back just enough to place a kiss over the pine tree emblem on his hat, then nudged their foreheads together again. “A side effect of that is probably thinking silly things like only asking for one kiss.”

He laughed easily, heart so much lighter. He was still leaving and it was still awful, but it felt easier. “Who knows what I’ll do if I ever get full brain capacity again? Except, hey, I probably won’t. Just as I’m on the cusp of solving world hunger, I’ll get a sappy line of poetry on my phone and there it’ll go.”

“Well, then you’ll just have to warn me when you get around to that so I make sure to time it for after you become a candidate for the Nobel Peace Prize. Who am I to get in the way of your brain and world hunger?” His palms stroked along his sides, savoring this last bit of contact in the seconds they had left.

“Could be the brain damage talking, but I’d give up a peace prize to read poetry if it was yours.” He kissed him again, quick and light and smiling. “You should... You should probably go, right? As much as I wouldn’t mind you missing your flight, you shouldn’t. As loaded with mystery as Massachusetts is, you should be safe tucked away in Lakeville, city of lakes.”

Wirt laughed, lifting his hand to cup the cheek that wasn’t bruised. “I’d miss it for you. But given the amount of brain damage I’ve already given you, it’s in your best interest that I go now, yeah.” He stroked lightly with his thumb. “I know there’s no shortage of mystery here, and that you’re all about that, but… stay safe, too? Do your thing, of course. Finding patterns, solving puzzles, just… just be safe?”

“I will.” He covered Wirt’s hand, tipping into the touch. “I’ll be fine. No more blood oaths for a while and definitely no more getting kidnapped.” No more watching a man die. Dipper closed his eyes quickly against the way the thought crept into his mind, banishing it to the corner where it belonged. It wasn’t going to ruin this.

He smiled again when his eyes opened, giving Wirt’s hand a squeeze. “If I’m struggling with a puzzle, can I call you for some inspiration?”

“Of course. I mean, I still don’t know how I do it, but giving you inspiration is my pleasure.” He didn’t want to go. Removing his hand to squeeze Dipper’s back, he slowly eased away, straightening up. “And just for the record, you don’t need a reason to call me.”

“Neither do you.” Dipper stood first, offering both hands to help Wirt up. “I’ll always answer for you.”

“Me too.” He watched their hands for a moment, then met his gaze. “I mean it. Always.”

“I know. I... I trust you.” Dipper nodded, taking a step back and letting his hands fall away. He reached for his phone and tapped out a quick message, sending it despite their proximity.

_First text is mine. I win. <3_

Wirt huffed out a laugh. “I didn’t know this was a contest,” he replied while his heart skipped a beat.

His phone chimed again. _Second’s mine too. You’re slacking._

“Go on, man. Your family’s waiting for you, and... I’m okay. This thing, this us thing, is going to be okay too. Talk to you later,”

Clutching his phone tightly, Wirt nodded. He took a step back, then another one. “Yeah. Yeah, talk to you later.” The next backward step had him tripping, but he caught himself with a sheepish smile. “I meant to- yeah, um… see you.”

He hurried to the car and opened the door, sliding into the backseat with a shaky exhale. Greg placed his hand on his arm, every muscle tight as he held onto his phone. They could do this. They could do this.

“Wirt, sweetie-” his mom started, tone sympathetic and worried.

“It’s okay. Just drive.” He looked up, managing a smile until his step-dad started the car and started for the dirt road.

Wirt and Greg turned around to look out the back window, Jason Funderburker, too. Before the Mystery Shack even had a chance to get smaller, Wirt flipped open his phone. He quickly typed out a response to the first two texts marking what was sure to become a novel-length account of their correspondence.

_Third time’s the charm or so they say, but despite this lucky token I_ _miss you already._  
_See you in summer <3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, guys 3 Wednesday's update will be an epilogue to tie everything off more or less. 
> 
> But! Do not be discouraged, friends! Part Three of Mystery Best Friends is well on its way to completion! We will get around to posting the first chapter of that soon, if not immediately after we post the epilogue. We're just going to keep on trucking through with these. There's no end in sight. 
> 
> Though we need a title first... if we don't have a title for Part Three, then you guys will be out of luck. (Just kidding, I'm sure we'll come up with something even though we're both terrible at titles.) 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for your support and kind words and just for taking the time to read this fic! We really appreciate it!


	16. Epilogue

The flight had been long, the hours they’d gained going west lost to them as they headed back east. It was late when they landed in Boston, later still when they arrived at home, Lakeville sleepy and dark as the headlights of their family car cut through the night. Safe in the city of lakes, Wirt mused, carrying his little brother out of the backseat.

He felt like a different person, coming back to it all now. Much like in the aftermath of The Unknown. Everything was the same, but seen with different eyes.

He could make a poem out of that, but he was tired and eager to unpack so he could make good on his promise and call Dipper. Maybe he’d even wake up Greg, so he could talk to Mabel for a bit, too. For now he left him asleep on his shoulder, taking him inside once their mom unlocked the front door and to his room. Next he fetched Jason Funderburker, that lucky frog o’ theirs, then helped Jonathan bring in the rest of the bags.

After bidding him and his mom goodnight, Wirt checked on Greg to debate waking him or not and found that he was already sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Hey, what’s up?” Wirt asked softly while his brother stumbled out of bed.

“I want Mabel’s sweater,” he mumbled, pointing to his suitcase.

Knowing how Greg packed, the sweater was probably bunched up in a ball somewhere at the bottom. “Greg, it’s late. We’ll unpack in the morning and we’ll find it then.”

“No, I want to wear the sweater now. Wirt, it’s important.”

With a sigh, he relented. It was important. It was why he was wearing both the sweater Mabel made for him as well as Dipper’s t-shirt, so how could he deny Greg the same comforts? Wirt sat down on the floor, beckoning for Greg to join him and ended up with a lapful of a sleepy, snuggly brother plus frog. He unzipped the suitcase and propped the top of it against the wall.

The first thing that surprised him was how neatly everything was packed. The second thing was nestled right up against his brother’s trusty tea kettle. Greg gasped with delight, waking up a bit more now, while Wirt groaned and slapped his palm to his forehead.

“Mabel, _why_?”

“Grappling hook!” Greg cheered, then took aim at the ceiling.

Wirt took it from him before he could do any damage to their house. “No. No, if you’re going to play with this, then you’re not allowed to pull the trigger. Unless we’re miles away from civilization or in a life or death situation where firing a grappling hook is necessary.” When Greg merely pouted at him, Wirt made to set it aside. “On second thought, I’m keeping it. You’re too little for it.”

“Hey. Mabel put it in my suitcase,” Greg reasoned.

“Yeah, well…” Wirt glanced at the rather beat up tool and noted the note stuck to it. “Well, this note has my name on it, which means I get to be in charge of what happens with the grappling hook.”

“It’s addressed to both of us,” he pointed out. “It says: ‘Hi guys!’”

“Yeah, but my name’s the only one that appears in the body of the note,” he defended after a quick scan. “Here, I’ll read it. ‘Before you get mad, Wirt,’ oh yeah, thank you for the warning, Mabel, ‘a grappling hook...’”

“What?” Greg tilted his head, then pushed at Wirt’s arms so he could read along with the note, too, though his brother continued to read it aloud nonetheless.

_Hi guys!_

_Before you get mad, Wirt, a grappling hook is a very important accessory in every person’s life. They come in handy more than you’d think! And this one definitely has._

_This is the one Grunkle Stan gave me that first summer. This is the one we played with in The Unknown. This is the one that helped me and Dipper conquer our fears and repel down a cliffside. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve had to use it! Except I can, but who wants to count that high on purpose? (Besides Dipper.)_

_Anyway!_

_It’s a little banged up here and there, but it’s still strong and reliable. Just like both of you. You’ve got your dents and scratches, but you’re still whole and beautiful and wonderful._

_I love you guys._

_Take good care of it, okay? Like you take care of each other._

_Love,_

_Mabel_

_p.s. Look at the flash drive!!!!_

_p.p.s. We’ll see you sooner than you think! And that’s a rock fact!_

“You’re a beautiful grappling hook, Wirt.” Greg told him, squishing Wirt’s cheeks with his palms. “Dents and all.”

“Greg, stop it.” Wirt shook his head, gaze shifting from the note to the grappling hook as he sighed. “Well, I guess we’re now the proud owners of a grappling hook.”

“Yes!” Greg pumped his fist in the air.

“I’m still the one who’s keeping it, though.”

“Aw, beans.”

Wirt folded up the note and handed it to him. “You can have this though. And come on, let’s find that flash drive. I asked Mabel for copies of those pictures of us in The Unknown, you know? The ones in her scrapbook.”

“Oh, yeah!” Greg located the frog shaped drive immediately. “Let’s look at them now!”

“Now?” Wirt took out his phone to check the time, but was immediately tugged on, nearly dragged across the floor in his little brother’s haste. “Okay, okay! Now’s good. Now’s fine.”

The brothers snuck into the darkened office and booted up the computer. Wirt took his seat in the swivel chair, lowering it since it was still hiked up to the highest height from when Greg had used it right before they left. The younger boy clambered onto his lap, with Jason Funderburker on his own, then popped the flash drive into the appropriate slot.

The room was bathed in a soft, bluish glow from the computer screen as it woke up. Wirt clicked on the icon for the flash drive and found there were two folders. One was labeled “The Unknown” and the other “Gravity Falls 2015.” Wirt’s lips quirked up at the thought of having pictures to document their time together this time around as well. Without having to say anything, both boys agreed to open the newer folder first.

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt covered his eyes and his face burned, just a glimpse of most of the thumbnails enough to embarrass and delight him. “ _Mabel, why_?”

“Aw, this is a good one of you and Dipper!” Greg praised, taking over the clicking. “You’re so in love.”

“What?”

Wirt removed his hand to blink at the picture, stunned to find that it was of them at the party - Mabel had been dancing and competing for the party crown _how had she had time to take a picture?_ \- and that Greg was right. Dipper’s arms were looped around his shoulders and his arms were holding Dipper’s waist. They were both smiling, so shy and new and happy. Maybe it wasn’t completely love shining in their eyes, but it was certainly the promise of it. Wirt’s heart skipped a beat and he made a mental note to print this particular picture to keep in his bedroom.

It was still embarrassing to find how often and how discreetly Mabel had photographed them, the ones of them at the campfire from the night before - was it only the night before? - particularly so. It was like nothing else existed around them, Wirt could see in his own eyes that he was completely lost in Dipper. He swallowed, chin quivering as he was struck with the sudden urge to grab him and hold on. To hesitantly press against him in the small bed they’d shared and soak up his warmth and comfort, tucked in between Dipper and the wall. Safe, protected, and wanted.

He wanted to see him. Hear him. Make him smile. Make him laugh. Protect him in return. Hold him. Cuddle in front of the television with him. Kiss him. Kiss him again.

He wanted that.

Wirt sniffled, tears springing to his eyes as a wave of loneliness swept through him, threatening to drown him in a way he hadn’t experienced since he’d been small. Greg turned around in his lap and hugged him fiercely. Wirt clung to him. Lonely as he was, at least he wasn’t alone. None of them were. None of them had to be.

“Let’s see if Dipper has any new videos,” Greg suggested quietly, back to their routine before they’d crossed the country to see the Pines twins in-person.

It was unlikely. They’d only left them that day. But Wirt huffed out a laugh and nodded. They went to his channel, both delighted to see that there was, in fact, a new video.

“He knew!” Greg gasped, tugging on Wirt’s sweater as he pointed at the screen and grinned. “Dipper knew we’d need a video!”

“I don’t know if he knew,” he chuckled, then his eyes widened as he realized exactly what video it was that he uploaded. “Oh.”

“What?”

“It’s… it’s the three million subscriber video.”

“The one you helped with?” When Wirt nodded, Greg grabbed at the mouse and clicked on it. “Let’s watch it then!”

The soft lighting of the oasis filled the video player, Dipper in the midst of it all with the waterfall gently singing behind him as it trickled into the pond. Wirt grinned as Greg gasped, oohing over the location. Dipper looked even better than his memory had filed away. Gorgeous. His heart fluttered and he bit back a happy squeak as he hid his mouth against Greg’s hair. His eyes widened when the voice that started the video did not come from the channel’s host himself.

_“No title card this time?”_

“Wirt, it’s you!” Greg wiggled excitedly. “You’re in a Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained video!”

_“I forgot it.”_ Dipper shrugged on screen and Wirt didn’t miss the way his gaze moved from just beyond the camera to the lens itself. He’d been looking at him. _“Okay, so, just pretend I've got the title card. Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained number whatever because I forgot to look that up. It'll be in the title or the description. Probably both._

_“So for this one, we've got something different from normal to celebrate three million subscribers. Like... wow. Who are you people?”_ Dipper tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. He really was cute. Oh, he hoped he’d cut that part out of the video because him saying that he was cute to his cute face was just too much. _“Thanks, though, for tuning in and sticking this out through all the terrifying and strange things we've covered in these videos. For this one, we wanted to show that there's more than weird here. Or, I guess more importantly, that the weirdness can be just plain gorgeous. That was an oxymoron but whatever. Enjoy this one, guys, and thanks.”_

The conversation they had immediately following it had been cut, scenes of the nymphs arriving and dancing through the air replacing Dipper on the screen. Wirt held his breath, watching them through pixels was nothing compared to watching them in reality, but they were still captivating. Not nearly as captivating as Dipper had been. _You can have me._ He’d told him. He’d meant it. Dipper’s staggered, breathless reaction imprinted forever in his mind’s eye, the way his fingers brushed his cheek so lightly, like he’d disappear if he pressed too hard.

“That was really nice,” Greg piped up when the video ended, Wirt having missed Dipper’s closing words lost in his own memories. “I’m glad you and Dipper got to go on that date.”

“Yeah, me too.” Wirt kissed the top of Greg’s head, smiling down at him.

“How are you gonna top that though?”

He laughed, squeezing him. “That’s what I said! Apparently it doesn’t matter to him what we do.”

“But it matters to you,” Greg noted.

Wirt shrugged. “I just want… I want to be his equal in this. I mean, he’s the total package-”

“And you are, too, Wirt. You’re definitely Dipper’s equal. You’re the captain and he’s the admiral and you’re perfect for each other.” With a firm nod, Greg finished his piece.

“Thanks, Greg.” He hugged him again, then helped him down from the chair. “Why don’t you go find your sweater and get in your pajamas? If you’re quick enough, you can talk to Mabel and Dipper for a little bit when I call them.”

“When are you calling them?”

Wirt flashed him a grin. “Right now.”

Greg ran out of the room so fast, Wirt worried he wouldn’t make the turn into the hall and crash right into the wall. Shaking his head, he turned off the computer and removed the flash drive. As he walked back to his room, he flipped open the phone and looked for Dipper’s number. He started to program it to the next open speed dial opening, number four, but hesitated. After few quick clicks and rearranging some contacts, it ended up being the number one he pressed before the call button. While it was certainly late here, it was only mildly late over in Gravity Falls, Oregon.

“Hey there, stranger,” Wirt murmured into the receiver, smiling like the lovestruck fool he was as he flopped back onto his bed. “So, you’ll never guess what your sister put in Greg’s suitcase.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all in part three!


End file.
